Under Snape's Thumb
by khalya
Summary: Harry is adopted by Severus Snape. Nothing goes well at first, but he soon meets someone who will show him another side to his new father.
1. Chapter 1

Hi everyone,

After several years, "Sous la coupe de Rogue" is back... in English! Don't panic, I didn't do the translation - **Les Varioufs** did (if the link doesn't work, type their name in the search bar, and you'll find them straight away). If you want to read the original version in French, you can find it on my profile page. I can't promise regular updates, because translation isn't simple and life often means that Les Varioufs and I can't dedicate as much time to the translation and publication of the story as we would like (although we will do our best).

Finally, you all know the routine: the characters don't belong to me, they come from the limitless imagination of our hero JK Rowling. I humbly ask her to forgive me for what I do to her work.

I hope you enjoy this story, and remember that **Les Varioufs** and I always like reading your comments!

Enjoy!

* * *

"With all due respect, Albus, you've lost your mind!"

"That's what the _Daily Prophet_ says," the Headmaster replied, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

Severus Snape rolled his eyes. "The _Prophet_ is written by a bunch of incompetent idiots who are paid by an idiot minister. If they prefer to ridicule you all instead of admitting that the Dark Lord has returned, then a great lot of good it will do them. But I don't see what this has to do with me being here."

Albus took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Severus, you know that the press is also attacking Harry. His muggle family has refused to take him in again, and even if I forced them to, his mother's sacrifice will no longer protect him."

"Why doesn't he go with Black, then?" spat Snape.

"Sirius is still on the run. Harry needs stability and, before you list half the names of the wizarding families, he also needs someone who is powerful enough to protect him and sees him as a normal teenager, not the hero of the wizarding world whose feelings must not be hurt at all costs."

"And of course, I'm the only one who meets these requirements," Snape said sarcastically.

Albus chuckled. "You are also the one I have the most faith in."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Albus. And you're forgetting one little thing."

"What?"

"Potter and I can't stand each other!"

"Now Severus," Albus protested, his tone one of light reproach, "the old animosity between you and James no longer exists - Harry only looks like his father. And the hostility between you is of your own doing - the boy had nothing against you in the beginning."

Severus refrained from commenting. Perfectly aware that he was in the wrong, he changed the topic of conversation.

"And Black?"

"What about him?" Dumbledore asked innocently.

"Don't play games with me, we're not just talking about baby-sitting here! This is adoption – permanent adoption. Damn it Albus," he shouted, getting to his feet, "do you really think Black will agree to me having such power over his precious godson? He knows my beliefs on raising children – I've never hidden them!"

"Sirius has already agreed, Severus."

Shocked, the normally cold Potions Master fell back into his armchair. "But… but… why?"

"I was able to convince him that it would be in Harry's best interests and, since my decision was final, he would help things along by not resisting – something which would have been both painful and useless."

Snape jumped at Harry's name. "And Potter? I suppose he'll go from a quiet, pampered family life to a strict upbringing under my control without resisting at all?"

"You might be surprised. Harry has been cruelly deprived of care and affection for his entire life. Look at the Weasley children – Molly is an implacable mother, but they would not swap her for all the peace and quiet in the world. Now, he will probably rebel quite quickly. It is up to you to remain firm and make him understand that this is not a punishment, and that you're not only in charge, but are also there to offer help and support."

Snape sank further into his armchair, his expression sullen. Help and support? For James Potter's son? Why not cuddle him and read him bedtime stories while he was at it?

"Albus, please be serious. I don't know how to deal with children!"

"Come, come, your class is always under complete control."

"Terrorising children is much easier than raising one alone."

"I'm sure you'll be marvellous."

Snape shot him an extremely cold look.

"I would be a disastrous father, Albus. Look at me! I'm not cut out for this!"

Albus stood up and put a hand on Severus' shoulder, his sparkling blue eyes finding his protégé's sombre ones. "I have every faith in you, Severus."

Snape sighed. It was a low blow… He had never been able to refuse Dumbledore when he reminded him of the faith he had in him despite everything. Once again, he was going to bow to the old coot's whim.

"Alright," he groaned, rubbing a hand over his face, "where do I need to sign?"

Albus conjured some parchment and muggle forms in front of his Potions Master. Snape immediately saw that the signatures of Vernon and Petunia Dursley were already on the documents. Under the smiling gaze of Dumbledore, he signed on the line left for him.

It was done. According to both wizarding and muggle law, he was now Harry Potter's legal father.

"And Potter?"

"Severus," Dumbledore said mildly, "you will have to stop calling the boy Potter."

Snape shot him a scathing look and considered giving into his Death Eater instincts and just killing the old headmaster. But, seeing that his cold look had absolutely no effect on Dumbledore, he resigned himself to giving in.

"Fine. And Harry? When are you going to talk to him about this new situation?"

"He already knows."

"What? But how? When?"

"My dear boy, I can read you like a book."

Snape crossed his arms, furious that his mentor found him so predictable. They remained silent for several minutes. Then, his curiosity overwhelming his resentment, Snape broke.

"How did he take the news?"

"Mostly well."

"I need a bit more than that, Albus."

"What would you like to know, Severus?" sighed Dumbledore. "He didn't shout that it was out of the question, he didn't get angry. He seemed… resigned. He only said that you would never agree."

"So he didn't react because he thought all of this would never happen."

Albus couldn't help but smile at how offended Snape looked. He thought it was best not to explain to the professor that Harry had only agreed to the adoption because Sirius had asked him to, reassuring him that it would change nothing between them.

Living together would certainly be difficult, but he was convinced that it would, in the long term, benefit his two protégés. Harry needed someone who cared about him, and not just because he was the Boy Who Lived. And Severus needed to feel useful and prove to himself that he could be a father. Most of all, he needed to stop feeling guilty for not being able to stop the Potters' deaths.

"Very well," sighed Snape, "where is Pot… Harry?"

oOo

Harry threw a pebble in the water. He knew that it was late, he knew that he wasn't allowed to be next to the lake at this time of night, but he honestly didn't care. What could they do? Take away house points? The holidays had started two days ago – they couldn't do anything. Anyway, he didn't care. Voldemort was back. He had come back and he had killed Cedric. And he, Harry, had just run away. What a hero…

The worst of it was that no one believed him – they thought he was crazy or, even worse, a compulsive liar.

He angrily threw another pebble into the water.

And the Dursleys didn't want anything to do with him anymore. Although he had never been happy living with them, number 4 Privet Drive had always been his home. Not anymore. No one wanted anything to look after a boy who attracted trouble like a magnet.

He threw another pebble.

Not to mention all of this business with Snape. Adoption? Wasn't his life bad enough as it was? Or maybe it was his punishment for letting Cedric die.

Even Sirius wanted him to go with Snape, and that said everything. Oh, he had promised that they would still see each other, maybe even more than before, but he didn't want to look after him. If even Sirius thought he deserved such a punishment…

He sighed. Hermione and Ron didn't know anything. They didn't know that the Dursleys didn't want him. They thought he was going to travel by a different method than the Hogwarts Express, for safety. At the moment, they were with their families, with people that loved them.

He shook his head to free it from these dark thoughts. He wasn't going to hold it against his friends that they had parents and loving families.

The sound of footsteps jerked him roughly from his thoughts. He leapt to his feet, his wand held out in front of him.

"Expelliarmus!"

Snape blocked the spell with a simple wave of his hand.

Harry gulped. _Oops_ , he thought, _he'll kill me on the spot_.

But Snape simply looked at him and didn't say a word. Harry stared at him for a moment, his heart thumping. A lump formed in his throat. He didn't know how, but he just knew. Snape had agreed.

The Potions Master seemed to give a tiny sigh before speaking. "I think we need to talk."

Obeying the implicit command, Harry picked up his cloak and followed Snape to his office in the dungeons. Throughout the entire ten-minute walk, they didn't say a single word.

Harry walked several paces behind his furious professor. _If he did agree to this adoption, he didn't do it out of the kindness of his heart_ , Harry thought.

Snape opened the door to his office and indicated with a brusque gesture for Harry to sit in a chair. He sat down in his own chair and sighed deeply, his eyes shut. Harry swallowed. This looked bad. He had to diffuse the situation, and quickly.

"I'm sorry, sir."

Snape opened his eyes and stared at Harry. After several beats of silence, he sighed. "Why?"

Harry jumped - Snape's calm, serious voice didn't sound angry at all.

"Well," he stammered, "I suppose you agreed to the… the…"

"Adoption?"

"Yes."

"Indeed."

Harry lowered his head. He had known, but hearing it said out loud was slightly upsetting.

"Harry?"

He jumped again. Harry? Snape never called him that. He yelled 'Potter' most of the time.

"Why are you sorry?"

Harry blinked at this new familiarity, but he supposed that, now Snape had adopted him, it was to be expected. After all, he was no longer just a professor for Harry. He realised that the professor was waiting for a reply.

"Because you were forced to adopt me even though you hate me, and for being next to the lake at night," said Harry in a low voice, his head bowed.

 _And for letting Voldemort come back and kill Cedric_ , he thought bitterly.

Snape watched him in silence for a moment. "I see," he replied. "Let's get some things straight. First, Professor Dumbledore did not force me to adopt you. He convinced me. Second, I don't hate you. Although your habit of looking for trouble does deeply annoy me-"

"I don't go looking for trouble," Harry interrupted through clenched teeth, "it just happens!"

Snape didn't comment on the interruption - he would not start teaching the boy tonight. But his insolence would have to stop.

"But," he continued, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice, "I am sure that, if we both make an effort, we can get beyond that. Finally, I do not see anything wrong with you being next to the lake. You are perfectly safe at Hogwarts and no curfew has been given to you."

Snape hesitated. Should he continue? Or should he wait to discuss the thoughts he had sensed from Harry at a better time and in a more relaxing environment? He decided to compromise.

"As for the Dark Lord's return, I can guarantee you that you could not have done anything."

Harry opened his mouth to argue. Snape silenced him with a gesture.

"The topic is a difficult one and I would prefer to discuss it later. When we get to the manor, we can talk about it if you wish."

"Ok," Harry whispered.

Snape looked at the young man sitting opposite him. Time to tackle the unpleasant issue.

"Harry, I want to make a few things clear to you."

"Yes, sir."

"Father."

"Sorry?" Harry choked out.

"I am now your father and you must address me as such. I believe it's the minimum respect you owe me."

Harry paled and Snape considered that he had perhaps gone too far too fast. The boy was already upset and it was perhaps too much for him. But on the other hand, he had strict rules, rules that could seem archaic, perhaps even cruel, for certain "modern" and lax families like the Weasleys, but rules that he nevertheless refused to abandon. And respect was one of them.

"Harry, by calling me father you are not betraying James Potter. He will always be your father. Let's just say I'm taking over."

Harry gave in. "But I'm still called Potter, aren't I?"

"Yes," Snape assured him. "You just add Snape at the end of Potter on official documents, but otherwise you are not obliged to use that name."

"Thank you," Harry whispered.

"Good. Let's continue. There are certain rules that you absolutely must obey. I will be very strict about that. Disobey them and you will deeply regret it. I will tell you about them when needed, don't worry. And I will never punish you for mistakes that you make because you had not been told of a rule. But there are two that you must learn now."

"I'm listening," Harry replied in a dull voice.

"First, you must never again interrupt me or any other adult as you did earlier."

"Ok," Harry said, telling himself that he wasn't really in a position to argue.

"Second, you must always ask my permission before going somewhere, whether it's to leave the table, go for a walk or to go to your room. Always. I will not tolerate you breaking this rule."

Harry nodded, his teeth clenched. He longed to argue back, as he had always done, but Sirius' words immediately came to mind, like an alarm bell telling him to be quiet.

"Harry," his godfather had told him, "even though Snape and I hate each other, I know that he won't make you suffer. But he is strict and inflexible. He believes in a traditional upbringing. Don't disobey him, Harry, or he'll punish you mercilessly."

The worry in Sirius' eyes had convinced him that he was telling the truth. He knew that Dumbledore had not given his godfather a choice, but he couldn't help himself from thinking that he hadn't fought very hard to have him. And he knew himself – he knew that, sooner or later, he would fight back against Snape. But for now, it would be pointless to provoke him before the ink on his adoption papers had even dried.

Snape suddenly stood, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

"Are your things ready?"

"No, sir."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"No, Father," Harry said, surprised that he had no difficulty saying the word.

"Go and get them ready. We're leaving after the staff meeting. You have two hours."

"I'll be ready."

"Perfect."

Snape gestured for Harry to leave. Harry walked back to his dormitory, slightly relieved. Maybe living with Snape wouldn't be as horrible as he had imagined, even if it wasn't going to be easy. Not easy at all…

oOo

The house elves had taken his suitcase several minutes ago. Harry had gone into the Gryffindor common room with the attention of reading a book on Quidditch until they had to leave. But he hadn't accounted for the sleepless nights that he had had since the return of the homicidal madman, who invaded his dreams whenever he closed his eyes.

He fell asleep.

Voldemort walked into the common room, his wand in his hand. His smile was sinister. He raised his hand and grabbed Harry's wrist, his fingers digging painfully into the skin. Harry struggled to get free, but Voldemort's grip was too strong.

The monster slowly raised his wand.

"Crucio!"

Harry yelled at the top of his voice.

"Harry!"

His eyes snapped open and he recoiled so violently that he rocked his chair backwards. Only Snape's hand on his wrist stopped him from falling. He glanced at the clock and was surprised to see that he was half an hour late.

"Calm down," Snape said calmly, understanding his adoptive son's train of thought. "You had a nightmare, nothing more."

Harry nodded silently, waiting for the reprimand that would surely follow.

"If you are ready," Snape continued, "we can go."

"Yes sir," Harry stammered.

"Father," the Potions Master reminded him, his voice firm but devoid of anger.

"Sorry."

"Let's go."

Snape left the common room, Harry almost running to keep up.

"We're leaving from Hogsmeade."

"Sir? Er… I mean, Father?"

"Yes?"

"Can I buy a few things?"

"Where from?"

"Honeydukes."

Snape's first instinct was to categorically refuse, but he reconsidered when he remembered the life the young man had had with his muggle family. Dumbledore had told him of the cupboard and that Harry had been deprived of food.

"Fine. But be reasonable."

"I will."

When Harry came out of the shop, Snape rolled his eyes. The two of them clearly didn't have the same understanding of the word reasonable.

"How are we getting to your house?"

"We're apparating."

"But…"

"I know full well that you cannot apparate. Hold onto my arm and do not under any circumstances let go."

Harry grabbed his new father's arm and clung on with all his strength, slightly nervous despite himself. He felt as if he were being squeezed all over and tightened his grip, shutting his eyes. As nerve-wracking as it was, the squeezing sensation didn't last very long.

Snape and Harry reappeared in front of the gates to a manor. To Harry, it seemed enormous compared to Privet Drive. The manor had four floors and was surrounded by a large park.

"We cannot apparate inside the manor," Snape explained. "Only family members and Dumbledore can apparate onto the steps outside. Tomorrow I will amend the wards so they recognise you, but for the moment I will begin by introducing you to the house elves and showing you around the manor."

They walked into the manor. Three small house elves immediately appeared.

"This is Harry Potter-Snape. I have adopted him, and he is therefore your new young master. Harry, Kookie looks after the house and Backer is my personal elf. Alima doesn't really belong to me but is very helpful. Of course, you'll need your own personal elf."

"Winky," Harry murmured.

"Pardon?"

"Winky. She was Mr Crouch's elf – he freed her and she works at Hogwarts now like Dobby. But she hates being free and Dobby told me that she cries every night and says that no family wants her anymore."

"I will go and see her if Albus agrees. Come, I will show you around – this door on the left leads to the kitchen. It's Kookie's domain. On the right is the living room."

Snape opened the living room door. It was decorated in the same way as the Slytherin common room, but the atmosphere was warmer and instead of green lights there were chandeliers. Part of the room was taken up by a table made of black marble that was big enough to seat a dozen people. The other part was taken up by a sofa and two armchairs arranged around the fireplace. There was a door on either side of the fireplace.

"The door on the right is my office. Like my bedroom and laboratory, you are forbidden from entering without me there but you can, of course, find me there if you want to speak with me. On the left is the library. You can do your homework there."

Harry followed Snape into the room and stopped, his mouth hanging open – there were hundreds of books.

"Hermione would be so jealous!"

Snape only just managed not to smile.

"Come."

They went back into the hall. Snape gestured to the two doors at the bottom of the stairs.

"To the left is my laboratory, to the right is the cellar."

They went up a flight.

"The door opposite the stairs is my bedroom. The one to the right is yours. Do not ever go into the one on the left or you will be in more trouble than you have ever been before. Understood?"

"Yes," Harry replied hastily.

"Good. Let's go into your room."

As soon as they entered the room, Harry understood why there were only three rooms on this floor. They had just walked into a living room with a desk, bookcase, wardrobe and a sofa. A door on the left led to a room with an enormous bed with a canopy, a large wardrobe and a chest of drawers, and a door on the right led to a bathroom.

But what struck Harry the most was the absence of colour. Absolutely everything was cream or ivory.

"It's a bit late today, but tomorrow Backer will help you."

"Help me?"

"As you can see, everything is neutral. Tomorrow you will personalise your room. Colour, decorations, curtains… do what you want."

"It's a wonderful room. Thank you very much… Father."

Snape nodded. "It's up to you to make it one. There are six rooms and a bathroom on the third floor. On the fourth is an attic and the house elves' room. The tour stops here. I'll let you relax. Meals are normally at 8 o'clock, 1 o'clock and 8 o'clock. I do not tolerate lateness and you will be severely punished if you are. Because we have just arrived from Hogwarts, dinner will be at 11 o'clock, so be downstairs in half an hour. Believe me, you do not want me to come looking for you. There is a clock on the fireplace."

Snape left, leaving Harry alone. Harry swallowed. Severely punished? Punished how? He had a feeling Snape wasn't talking about extra work, chores or anything like that. He had the unpleasant feeling that nothing would be easy. Snape was demanding and he had full power over him. He decided to take a quick shower, changed and immediately went downstairs into the living room.

He knew that he was often late and he had no desire to see what type of punishment Snape could inflict upon him on the first day.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello people,

I hope you like this chapter. Chapter 3 is being translated and I will put it online as soon as I have it. Be patient, translating is not easy, especially if you want to make a quality translation.  
Of course, you know, the characters do not belong to me (except Dementia, it's all mine!)

Thanks to Les Varioufs for translation!

Good reading

.

* * *

.

A quarter of an hour before meal time, Snape went downstairs into the living room, a book in his hand. He was surprised to see Harry sitting in one of the armchairs, watching the fire absently.

"I never thought I would live long enough to see you arrive early for something," he said mockingly.

Harry jumped slightly but didn't reply, instead looking away. Snape had just enough time to read fear on his face.

 _Perfect_ , he thought. His threats had had the desired impact. Fear was an excellent way of making people remember things.

Kookie entered the living room, looking happy; the little house elf loved the holidays, as there was always a lot to do. He laid the table in a flash. Harry noticed that it was laid for three people, but did not dare ask why.

Snape sat in the second armchair and opened his book.

11:00 came, and Snape continued to read.

At 11:30, just when Harry was thinking that it hadn't really been worth ordering him to be in the living room at 11:00 on the dot, Snape snapped his book shut and stood up.

"Let's sit down," he said severely.

Harry swallowed nervously when he heard Snape's tone of voice. Could he have read his thoughts?

"Hurry up, Harry! We've lost enough time!"

Harry frowned. "It wasn't me who read for forty five minutes," he muttered.

Snape looked up at him. "What did you say?"

Harry didn't reply. Snape violently slammed his hand down onto the table.

"I'm waiting for a reply! I do not tolerate insolence!"

"I wasn't insolent!" Harry said, forgetting to be careful in his annoyance. "You're being unfair!"

Snape slowly stood up. "Go to your room immediately."

"Oh, that's practical," spat Harry.

For a moment, it looked like Snape would yell at him, but he immediately regained his composure. He sat back down to eat his meal.

"You will go to your room and think about why you'll be punished."

All of Harry's anger was immediately replaced by fear. "What?"

"You understood me perfectly well."

"But you can't!"

"Oh, but I can. I am your father - I can do whatever I want! And I can assure you that after this, you'll think twice before speaking to me in that tone of voice again! Now go!"

Harry obeyed, terrified. He ran up the stairs and sat on the last step, incapable of going any further. He burst into tears, completely overwhelmed by panic.

Although he had been a punching bag for Dudley and his gang for years, he had never really been punished in that way by an adult who had authority over him, at least not without being able to defend himself. The idea of being hit by Snape terrified him.

He knew that he should go to his room, he knew that he was making everything worse by sitting at the top of the stairs, but he couldn't go to his room knowing what was waiting for him.

"Sirius," he whispered.

If only he could go and live with his godfather.

Suddenly, he heard Snape's voice. He was thanking Kookie for the meal and asking him to give him a coffee in twenty minutes, as he had something to do beforehand.

Harry jumped to his feet, trembling in fear. He was the "something to do". Completely panicked, he opened the door to the room on the left and rushed inside.

It wasn't until he'd closed the door that he realised the magnitude of what he had done. He had deliberately disobeyed Snape and gone into the forbidden room.

"He's going to kill me," he muttered.

No matter what he did, he just made it worse. In any case, he couldn't undo it – he could hear Snape coming up the stairs already. He was going to be furious.

A few moments later, Snape's magically amplified voice reached him.

"Harry, your attitude is childish. You have just made your punishment worse! You have five minutes to go back to your room. If you force me to look through every room in this manor to find you, you will regret it."

Harry swallowed thickly. He knew that he should obey Snape, but he couldn't. He realised that he was stuck like that, opposite the door, where Snape would have no trouble finding him. He opened the door on the left without looking around him. His mouth dropped open. It was like he had walked into the ocean. Everything, from the furniture to the walls to the lighting, reminded him of being deep underwater.

He sat between the bed and the wall, hiding himself behind some coral. He stayed there for over an hour, shocked that he hadn't been found. Snape hadn't come in and it seemed that no house elves had been ordered to find him.

At that moment, he heard the door open, and his heart leapt into his throat.

 _I'm dead_ , he thought, holding his breath.

The door separating the living room from the bedroom opened. Harry closed his eyes, biting his lip.

"Come out," said… a female voice?

He carefully opened his eyes and tried to see who was coming towards him through the coral. He could just make out a young, dark-haired woman who couldn't have been older than twenty.

"You must be Harry? Is that right? Get out of here! Who told you that you could come in?"

Harry stood up slowly, coming face to face with a sophisticated, manicured woman who didn't have a hair out of place. She immediately started telling him off again.

"I'm waiting for an explanation! Go on, say something!"

At that moment, someone knocked on the door and Harry heard Snape's voice. "Are you there?"

"I'm coming!" she shouted.

She glanced at Harry. He had turned very pale.

"You have ten seconds to persuade me."

"He's going to hit me," Harry said in a subdued voice, feeling exhausted and disheartened.

"So?" asked the young woman, crossing her arms.

Feeling embarrassed and ridiculous, Harry lowered his eyes, on the verge of tears. The young woman looked at him for a few moments and then, rolling her eyes, went back into the living room to open the door. Harry let himself fall onto the bed, trying hard to stop trembling. When he heard the door open, he pricked his ears.

"If you've come to tell me that Marc wants to talk to me, there's no point! I don't want to see him!"

"I'm looking for Harry."

"Why, have you lost him?"

"I wouldn't be looking for him otherwise."

"I haven't seen him. Is that all?"

"Dinner was at 11 o'clock-"

"I had a meeting."

Snape groaned but made no comment.

"Can I go and have a shower now?"

"Of course. I'm going to have a coffee and then go back to my research."

Harry couldn't believe it – she had covered for him!

His relief was short lived. He would have to confront Snape at some point. He felt a sob forming in his throat. Too much had happened to him in too short a time. He was also confused; everything had started well between them. How could everything have gone so badly wrong after just one comment? Tears began pouring down his cheeks.

The young woman came back into the room and sat down opposite Harry on her make-up stool, her legs crossed neatly.

"I've bought you some time. You can either convince me to help you, or you can give yourself up."

Harry told her everything in detail, starting with his arrival at the manor. He left nothing out, not even the tone he had used when he had been angry. She listened attentively without interrupting, then sighed softly.

"I think it was all my fault… It was me he was waiting for, but I had a meeting and I didn't think it was worth telling him I would be late. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Like I said, I don't look for trouble, it just happens," Harry muttered.

"Yes, but by disobeying him, you made it worse. Even if he admits that he was unfair in the beginning, he will not tolerate your disobedience and he'll punish you for that. But I'll try and calm him down first, that way your punishment won't be as bad."

Harry nodded, his breathing shallow. His fear had quickly come back. The young woman stood and tousled his hair, smiling.

"Come on, don't look like that, relax - he isn't a monster. And even if I can't get you out of it, it will only last a moment. Anyway, from what I've heard you've been through worse, so calm down."

She turned towards the door. "You can wait here if you want, or in my living room. He never comes in here, no matter what happens."

"Wait!" Harry stopped her just before she left. "I still don't know who you are."

"I'm Démi, your older sister," she said, then left.

Harry huddled up on Démi's bed. He was shocked. Snape had a daughter. And judging from her age, he must have had her when he was very young, maybe even before he left Hogwarts. He thought of the young woman. She reminded him of someone, but he didn't know who. In any case, she was lucky not to have Snape's nose! She had his dark hair and eyes, but the rest must have come from her mother. Who was she? Had he seen her, even if it was only in a photo? That would explain the fleeting feeling of déjà vu that he had had when he saw her.

Harry sighed. He felt extremely tired and was still anxious about the idea of seeing Snape. He wondered what Démi could do to calm the professor down.

oOo

Démi walked into the living room. Snape had settled himself into an armchair with a steaming mug, and still looked angry. The young woman sat on the arm of the armchair and unceremoniously took the mug out of his hands before it could even touch his lips.

"Ew," she grimaced, "have you put sugar in your coffee?"

"No one's making you drink it."

"That's good, since I'm on a diet!"

"What," Snape replied, shooting her a smile, "you put on 3 pounds since Christmas and are having trouble losing it?"

"More like I'm having trouble losing 13 stone…"

"Marc-"

"Marc!"

Kookie appeared next to them with a steaming mug containing a liquid that was somewhere between yellow and green, and held it out to Démi.

"What is that disgusting rubbish?" Snape asked.

"A purifying herbal tea."

Snape rolled his eyes but refrained from commenting. They were quiet for several minutes before Démi spoke, disturbing the silence. "Do you at least realise you're wrong?"

Snape shot her a dark look. "Where is he?"

"In my room…"

"And he's still alive," he said in surprise, raising an eyebrow.

"I felt sorry for him," she replied, shrugging.

Silence fell for a few moments.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I wouldn't be here."

"No you're not."

"Fine," she admitted after a moment's thought, "I'm very not sorry. Anyway, you're wrong."

"He was insolent."

"He's a teenager-"

"And you're only 15 minutes older than him."

"Almost 4 years," she countered, annoyed. "Stop trying to make yourself sound younger!"

Snape finished his coffee and stood up. He held his hand out to Démi to invite her to follow him. "Make him get out of your room."

"No."

"No?"

"No. You're being unfair! You were angry with me and you took it out on him just because he was there."

"He disobeyed me!"

"And he was wrong to do that – I'll be the first to admit it. But he panicked. Can't you try and be a bit more… I don't know… not human – that would be impossible – but tolerant?"

Snape glanced at her. "I've already been a tolerant and understanding father, and look where it got me."

Démi rolled her eyes but held her tongue. "Look, you can punish him for disobeying you if you're that upset about the idea of forgetting about it… but don't hit him."

"Are you going to pester me until I give in?"

"Probably. He's completely terrified."

"Very well, Mrs Johnson, you win."

They walked upstairs. Making sure he knew that this was a one-off and that he shouldn't get used to it, Démi let her father go into her private living room. She pointed to a sofa and ordered him to wait there, without moving, looking around or touching anything, while she went to talk to Harry.

Wondering just who owned the manor and who was the master of the house, Snape purposefully sat in the armchair instead of on the sofa, to show that he alone was in charge of what he did.

Démi went into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

Hearing the handle turning, Harry's heart skipped a beat. Démi gestured for him to be quiet and cast a silencing charm on the room.

"Right, I talked to Father."

"And?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"He won't hit you. You'll be punished for disobeying him, but not like that."

Harry seemed to breathe easier and the colour began to return to his cheeks. "Thanks," he whispered.

Démi smiled at him distractedly while she took various things out of her dresser. "Ok… outside now."

He walked towards the door and put his hand on the handle. Then he froze, unable to open it, unable to move at all… Snape was waiting for him beyond that door. He gave Démi a pleading look. She sighed in exasperation and, opening the door, went out first.

"Right, let's sort this out so that I can start making myself pretty, which takes time given my genes. Father, what's Harry's punishment?"

"I'll give him some homework, probably a potion," Snape replied, ignoring the acidic remark about his genes.

"Do you feel better?" she asked Harry quietly. Harry nodded. "Perfect," she continued, her voice becoming sharp again. "Now get out."

The two wizards obeyed. Once they were in the corridor, Snape went into his room and slammed the door without a single word or glance at Harry. Harry approached his own door. His hand on the handle, he hesitated. He glanced at Snape's door.

He hesitated again.

"You're a Gryffindor," he reminded himself.

He walked decisively over to Snape's door and, before he could lose his nerve, he knocked. He heard Snape's footsteps getting closer and then the door opened to reveal the Potions Master. He raised a questioning eyebrow when he saw Harry.

"Sorry," the young man breathed, barely audible, biting his lip.

Snape stared at him for a moment without saying anything and then, well aware of the courage it must have taken for Harry to come and knock on his door and say that one word, he stood aside and waved him inside.

"Sit down," he said calmly.

Harry nodded, his throat suddenly dry – something that Snape noticed immediately.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?"

Harry nodded but seemed incapable of starting the conversation himself.

"Ok," Snape began, "I think we can say that things got a bit difficult between us this evening."

"It's my fault," Harry whispered.

"I see. Why is that?"

"I got angry – I usually do when I don't understand something."

"I noticed that, yes. But on the other hand, I reacted a bit too quickly to a comment that was more ironic than insolent, as I first believed. And the fact that you answered back and disobeyed me didn't help. I had hoped that you would meet Démi in different circumstances."

"How old is she?" Harry asked, happy to change the subject.

"18," replied Snape, who hadn't been fooled and had no intention of letting himself be distracted. "You can get to know her better tomorrow, after your punishment."

Harry paled.

"I told you that I wouldn't hit you this time," Snape reassured him. "I always keep my promises, but don't expect me to be this lenient again. It will happen sooner or later. It might seem cruel to you, but it's an effective and quick punishment and lets us move on to other things."

Harry nodded, not at all convinced, his throat dry. He didn't have a choice – he would have to accept the situation. Snape watched him for a moment. He knew that his son would need time to absorb this information.

"Go to bed, Harry, it's very late and breakfast is at 8 o'clock tomorrow morning."

"Ok, good night Father."

"Good night Harry."

Harry went into his room, worried and frightened. He knew himself, he knew that he was incapable of keeping his calm and holding his tongue… he wondered how long it would take before that would get him into trouble, and just how painful annoying Snape would be. He was shaking just thinking about it.

He lay down on his bed. He should write to Ron and Hermione. He should tell them, explain… and more than anything, he should write to Sirius – he needed him, his advice. And he needed to see him more than he needed to write to him, no matter what it took.

No one would stop him from seeing his godfather, he decided, lying back against his pillows. Exhausted from the events of the evening, he was sound asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

oOo

Harry awoke with a start. He glanced at his clock: 7:48. He closed his eyes… and then snapped them open. 12 minutes! He only had 12 minutes!

Having taken a shower the previous evening, he made do with a quick wash, dressed and ran into the living room, panting, at the exact moment the clock in the hall chimed 8:00. Only Snape was already seated. He looked up at Harry and frowned.

"What are you wearing?" he asked quietly.

Harry looked at his clothes: he was wearing an old and overly large pair of jeans and a t-shirt, clothes that had once belonged to Dudley. "I don't have anything else," he muttered.

"What?" Snape snapped, more surprised than angry.

After Harry had explained that his Muggle relatives had never given him anything that hadn't already been worn out by their own son, Snape allowed him to sit down and help himself to food.

"This afternoon, we're going to get you some suitable Muggle clothes," he decided.

"I don't have any Muggle money," Harry sighed.

"Don't worry about that, you don't have to pay for your own clothes."

"Thank you," Harry muttered, helping himself to some pumpkin juice.

He nervously looked at the clock (8:15) and then at the empty place at the end of the table. Where was Démi? Was the rule about being on time meant only for him?

Snape's furious glances at the empty chair soon confirmed that the rule was for everyone. At exactly 8:20, the young woman walked into the living room, looking every bit as furious as her father.

"What a nightmare," she moaned, dropping into a chair without greeting anyone.

"Let me guess," Snape said sarcastically, "you've broken a nail?"

"No," groaned Démi, taking Harry's pumpkin juice, "Marc has changed his mind – he's not agreeing to the divorce."

"Ah. These things happen," her father replied wisely.

"That bloody little toad!" Démi said, losing her temper. "I gave him the best years of my life!"

"You only got married nine months ago," Snape sighed.

His daughter shot him a dark look. Snape rolled his eyes and turned to Harry. "The first one only lasted 6 months-"

"Yes, just like how the price of everything is going up, especially cauldrons," Démi said, giving the empty glass back to Harry.

Harry bit his lip to stop from laughing. His sister's mood suddenly became calmer.

"Father?"

"No!" Snape immediately replied.

Démi stood up and put her arms around her father's neck, her tone suddenly becoming affectionate. "Dad… Dad…"

"I don't have time," he said drily, "I have to test Harry's Potions skills, and I think that will punish me just as much as him."

"Yes, but-"

"And this afternoon I have to take him to the Muggle neighbourhood."

Démi frowned. "I can't talk to him! I don't want to! If I come face to face with him, I'll lose my temper and use the Killing Curse before I can stop myself!"

"Démi," Snape said warningly.

"And," she continued, sitting back down, "I'm too busy! The publication date is two days away. Two days! And nothing is ready!"

Snape didn't reply. Harry, curious, gathered his courage and asked, "What publication date?"

"Oh!" Démi exclaimed, sitting up straighter in her chair, "only _the_ publication date!"

"He's not interested," Snape interrupted.

"Obviously he is if he's asking!"

"Only because he didn't know what he was getting himself into."

"I'm the chief editor of a witches' fashion magazine," she continued, ignoring Snape.

"Démi," Snape said warningly.

"And twice a year, we publish the fashion trends for the next season."

"Démi," Snape said insistently.

"We publish in July for the autumn/winter season and in January for spring/summer-"

"Dementia!" Snape yelled, making them both jump. "Right," he said, ignoring Démi's glare, "I'm going to my laboratory. Join me when you've escaped the harpy's claws," he told Harry, who nodded quickly.

Snape threw his serviette onto the table and walked brusquely out of the room.

"When are you going to talk to Marc?" Démi yelled after him as he walked away.

He didn't even bother to reply. She sulkily nibbled on a piece of toast that she had taken from Harry's plate, trying to think of a way of convincing her stubborn father to talk to her equally stubborn future ex-husband.

"Dementia?" Harry snorted, drawing her out of her thoughts.

She grimaced. "Every time I complain, he reminds me that he was still at Hogwarts when I was born so he wasn't asked about choosing my name. Then he tells me he would have called me Cassandra and that I have my idiot mother to thank for my name. Crazy woman."

Harry managed to stop himself from laughing; he didn't want to annoy his sister, who was infinitely nicer than Snape.

"Who's your mother?"

He could have sworn that he saw Démi stiffen slightly before she smiled at him. "Forget about it. You don't know… I don't either, actually… right," she said, standing up, "I'm going to change and go to the office… you should go to the lab. Good luck. I know how you feel – I'm rubbish at Potions!"

Harry gave her a tense smile. He remembered that Snape had decided to punish him and wondered what was waiting for him.

"I really do attract trouble," he muttered, going into the hall.

He opened the door to the lab, went down the steps and knocked at the second door.

"Come in."

He opened the door and found himself in an exact replica of the dungeons at Hogwarts. Snape, who was sorting through his jars, glanced at him.

"Would you prefer to start with theory or practice?"

Harry looked at the workbench, where there was a pile of parchment and a cauldron sitting side by side. It was like having to choose between a dragon and a Thestral. When Harry didn't reply, Snape looked up from his jars. Harry's overwhelmed look both amused and annoyed him.

"I suspect that you would prefer to work on Defence Against the Dark Arts, but I want to know where you really are in Potions. It is for your O.W.L.s after all."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Perhaps if you concentrate and Miss Granger isn't here to whisper the answers to you."

Harry blushed but didn't dare reply.

"Here are the method and ingredients, and here is a 50-question test. I will be back in three hours – you must be finished by this time."

On that note, he turned on his heel and left Harry alone in the lab. Harry sighed and opened the test. He remembered some advice that Hermione had given him; "Don't waste time. Skip questions that you can't answer immediately. When you've finished answering the questions you know, go back to the start and try to answer the others."

"Right," he said to himself, "let's try it Hermione's way."

Half an hour later, he had answered 10 questions. Trying a different version of Hermione's technique, he left the test and decided to tackle the potion.

After two hours, he started to panic. Instead of being canary yellow, his potion kept changing between dirty green and yellow. Snape was going to kill him; he'd only answered 10 questions out of 50 and he had failed the potion. Completely.

He started to feel angry. He hated Potions. He wasn't going to find them interesting now that Snape had suddenly adopted him. He sat down on a bench, resolving not to touch anything until the furious madman who was now his father came back. Half an hour later Snape, punctual as ever, walked into the lab. He frowned when he saw Harry sitting down doing nothing.

"Have you finished?"

Harry looked away and said nothing. Snape's frown deepened. He glanced at the potion and rolled his eyes. Even for an unsuccessful potion, it was a mess. And it was one of the simpler ones that he had been able to find.

Without saying a word, he sat on a corner of the table and started looking through the parchment. Incredulous, he looked through it twice more. The bloody boy hadn't even answered a quarter of the questions!

He glared at Harry. "Are you making fun of me?"

Harry shook his head, still silent.

"Most of the questions were first year level," Snape said. "You had better try them again because you are not stepping foot outside until you have answered them correctly!"

"What?" Harry exploded. "Are you crazy? I'm not going to spend my summer doing Potions! I'm rubbish at it and that's fine by me. I don't want to get a job in it. I'm not going to be like you just because I'm living with you! I don't want to become evil, bitter and greasy!"

Snape crossed his arms and looked at him. "Have you finished? Good," he said, not giving Harry time to respond. "Go to your room. I'm going to let you calm down, then I'm going to come and speak to you. Get out of my sight."

Harry slammed the door of the lab with all his strength. He did the same with all the doors that were unfortunate enough to encounter him on the way back to his room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone! (Sorry for my english, I translate my disclaimer with google translate...) Here is Chapter 3, always translated by the fantastic Les Variouf. Chapter 4 is in the process of being translated and will arrive quickly. I hope you like this story and that you will appreciate this chapter. I wish you a good reading!**

* * *

If furniture could talk, it would have complained loudly. The doors groaned in their hinges, still vibrating indignantly from having been slammed with such rare violence. Meanwhile, the clock from on top of the chimney had flown through the air in a graceful arabesque pose before ending its trajectory, and its life, against the wall. The poor clock had literally exploded, its remains trampled and scattered to the four corners of the room. The furniture definitely had something to be worried about.

The next victim of this surge in violence was a poor innocent cushion which, after having been punched twenty times, found itself torn open with a letter opener. It immediately avenged itself by covering its attacker with a cloud of tiny white feathers. Since static electricity had decided to join in, the feathers attached themselves to their prey like glue.

Harry violently shook his head free of the feathers and, forgetting the cushions, took out his anger on the office chair, which he sent careering across the room with several angry and well-placed kicks.

"Potions!" he yelled, mad with anger. "Voldemort is back, Cedric is dead, and all that sadistic git is interested in is my Potions level? No one cares about that! Maybe he should teach me how to fight Death Eaters instead – that would actually be useful!"

Harry kicked the bookshelf several times, causing half the books to fall to the floor, before slumping against the wall, exhausted. He crossed his arms over his legs, leaned his head against them and closed his eyes, trying to calm down.

"Have you calmed down?"

Harry jumped, his head jerking upwards. He hadn't heard Snape come into the room. How long had he been there, leaning against the door with his arms crossed? Harry looked away, not knowing what to say.

"Alright, let's assume that you have."

Snape's tone, which was cold and dry, worried Harry much more than anger. Snape picked up the chair, righted it, and sat down opposite Harry.

"If you were looking for trouble, then congratulations - you found it!"

Harry gritted his teeth but didn't respond.

"It is a shame that you have completely undone Dementia's efforts to reduce your punishment simply because you are incapable of controlling yourself."

Harry obstinately remained silent but stiffened imperceptibly.

"I do not tolerate insolence of any kind. You are old enough to express yourself without losing your temper."

Harry still did not respond or look in his direction. Determined to make him react, Snape silently laid down the cane that he was carrying on the coffee table, right in front of Harry. Harry quickly looked up again.

"What-"

"What do you think? I warned you. I won't be lenient again."

"You can't!"

"Can't I? Actually, I think you'll find that I absolutely can!"

"No," Harry muttered.

"You've got no choice, Harry, it's that or my belt. But you will not escape it this time."

"Not that," he murmured.

"Very well," Snape said, standing up and undoing his belt. "Go to your room."

In a daze, Harry obeyed. He let himself fall face down on his bed, and buried his face in his pillow. Snape, who had followed him in, watched Harry while rolling his belt around his hand. Despite what the young man seemed to think, he would get no pleasure out of what he was about to do. But Harry needed to understand that his actions had consequences, often bad ones, and that he couldn't always get out of them using his status as the Boy-Who-Lived.

He walked up to Harry and hesitated, wondering if he should order him to stand up and lean against the wall, or even take off his t-shirt. He decided against it: this experience would be bad enough for the teenager as it already was.

No longer hesitant, he started the punishment.

He soon felt Harry stiffen and heard him muffle his moans of pain in his pillow. After several minutes he realised, from the movement of the boy's shoulders, that he was crying. He carried on for another minute or two before putting his belt back on.

"I hope you have learnt your lesson. You are also not allowed food today, and I strongly advise you to think about what you have done."

Harry didn't respond. But, from how his fingers were clenching on the pillow, Snape knew that he had heard exactly what he had said.

"Harry, it is up to you to make your life better. I will not deny that I am a demanding and strict father, but with a bit of effort on your part, everything can go well between us."

With that, Snape left Harry's rooms and went back into the living room. Once Harry heard the door close after his adoptive father, he abandoned all semblance of control and burst into tears.

Snape ate alone; Dementia never came home during the day. Once he had finished his meal, he shut himself away in his laboratory and didn't emerge until dinner time.

As usual, Dementia arrived late, cementing his belief that he had failed to raise her properly. He had started to suspect as much when she got married, on the very day of her 17th birthday, and he hadn't even seen it coming.

With her normal composure, Démi sat down and tucked into her meal; boiled fish and steamed vegetables. Snape rolled his eyes. Normally, women started diets to prepare for summer, but his daughter planned her diets around divorce. Twice a year, in her case.

"Is Harry ill?" she asked, pouring lemon juice onto her fish.

"Why are you putting so much lemon on that?"

"It burns fat."

"Oh, I see. And then I suppose it attacks the bones…"

"Psht. So, is he ill?"

"No," he replied, his tone discouraging any further conversation.

Or it would have done, if he hadn't been talking to his daughter. Every day, Snape wondered whether having her grow up far away from him and not sending her to Hogwarts had been the right thing to do. Only seeing her once a week to bring her presents or to take her shopping hadn't exactly solidified his authority over her: guilt and authority didn't generally go well together when it came to parenting.

"Where is he?" she insisted.

"Who?"

"Grindelwald!" she said, sarcastically.

"In his room."

"Seriously? Grindelwald?"

Snape sighed. "Harry!"

"No, I'm _D_ _é_ _mi_ … So, where is Harry?"

The conversation was so absurd that he couldn't help it; he started giggling. Dementia stared at him, one eyebrow raised. He pinched the bridge of his nose, regaining his composure as quickly as he had lost it.

"Harry is in his room."

"Did it go badly?"

"Dementia," Snape sighed, "you're wearing me out."

"And I haven't even started talking about Marc and the conversation that you have to have with him," the young woman muttered.

Snape stood up quickly. "It's not that your life doesn't interest me – quite the opposite – but I have an important potion to finish."

He walked away towards his laboratory, but couldn't help but hear Dementia yell "Liar!", followed by her house elf snickering. He rolled his eyes. Even the house elves were at it now.

The young woman quietly finished her meal and then, knowing what her father had likely done, made a ham club sandwich and poured a glass of milk. She went upstairs and knocked on Harry's door. There was no reply. She hesitated for a moment, torn between the idea of annoying her father until he gave in or going into Harry's room.

A second later, she pushed open the door… and immediately noticed the cane on the coffee table and the state the room was in.

"Ah," she muttered.

She put down the plate and glass and knocked on the bedroom door, but walked in without waiting for a response. For a moment, she thought the room was empty and looked around, confused. Then she noticed Harry's silhouette, lying against the wall, shaking with silent sobs. She felt her heart immediately go out to him.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, next to where Harry was lying.

"Hey!" she said quietly. "Did you fight a mountain troll in your living room?"

Harry jumped and lifted his head to look at her. His eyes, which were red and puffy, told her that he had spent hours crying.

"No," he murmured.

"So, what happened?"

Harry shrugged and grimaced in pain.

"Don't you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," he sighed.

"Alright, no problem. Are you hungry?"

Harry nodded.

"Come into the living room then, I brought you a sandwich."

Harry hesitated for a moment, remembering that he had been forbidden to eat anything, but his hunger was too strong. He stood up, grimacing. Dementia gave his shoulder a gentle and comforting squeeze.

"Will you be ok?"

"It hurts," Harry murmured.

"It will pass."

Sitting down on the sofa, Harry shot the cane a scared look. Dementia raised a questioning eyebrow and he shook his head. "No, it was his belt."

She smiled it him gently and pushed the plate and glass towards him. "Eat."

Then she moved towards the door. Harry immediately stiffened.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to find something to do. I can come back if you like."

Harry nodded. Dementia left just long enough to find several files, then came back and sat on the sofa next to Harry. She studied her notes for a good hour before he fell asleep with his head on her knees.

Démi put her files down and stayed there for a moment, stroking his hair. Fifteen minutes later, she gently disentangled herself and, taking the cane, quietly left his room and made her way to the laboratory.

.

oOo

.

Dementia hesitated in front of the door that led to her father's lab. Should she make him swallow his cane now or later? She thought about it for a moment. Later. She would wait until he had talked to Marc first. A bit of practicality never hurt anyone.

She went into the laboratory and wordlessly laid the cane across her father's parchments. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"That was mean!"

"Mean?"

"Yes, mean. You've never used that thing in your life!"

He shrugged, his expression dark.

"Listen, Mum… oh, sorry, the way you were acting I almost got you mixed up…"

Snape shot her a deadly look. "Now who's being mean?"

Dementia pouted sullenly, intending to look nonchalant, and silence fell again. Snape went back to his potion. Although he would have preferred to swallow a bucket of mouldy Flobberworms than admit it to anyone, his daughter's comment had hurt him. And, exasperatingly, although she didn't say or do anything other than play with a lock of her hair, she still managed to make him feel pathetic.

"Should I go blond?"

"If you did, you would be adopted by the Malfoys because you wouldn't be setting foot here again," he said.

"You said that when I married Marc… or was it when I married John? I don't know anymore…"

He didn't bother to reply; it was like talking to a brick wall with her. He wondered where she got it from… He wasn't like that, and as far as he could remember, her mother wasn't either.

He glanced at her. She was waiting for him, her chin on her hand and a pensive look on her face, obviously utterly bored. Distractedly, she started playing with the pot filled of powdered weeping willow bark. Eyebrows drawn together in curiosity, she held out her hand to tip its contents into the boiling cauldron.

Fast as lightning and internally thanking his Death Eater reflexes, Snape grabbed his daughter's fist before anything could happen.

Dementia raised her eyebrows. "What?"

"Don't touch anything else, Démi," Snape sighed.

Dementia crossed her arms and fell into a stubborn silence, sighing melodramatically at regular intervals. After just a few minutes, Severus was ready to pay her, send her back to France, or skin her alive, just to make her stop. Or he could give in…

"How is he?"

"How you left him."

Snape rolled his eyes. Honestly, it had only been four and a half minutes of punishment, if that - not exactly something he could be sent to Azkaban for.

Dementia, who had noticed the look on her father's face, frowned. "I meant how you left him emotionally."

Ah. Ok, he was off to a bad start. Not because his daughter could have followed in his footsteps and studied Potions (which, when he thought about it, might not have been much better), or even Botany, since she loved flowers. Everything would have been much simpler if she had. Instead, and without any consideration for her father's sanity, she had decided to study magical psychology. Of course, frivolous and flaky as she was, and also because she had got married at 17, she had not submitted her thesis and had therefore not received her qualification.

Instead, she had found a job as an agony aunt at the daily witches' newspaper and became chief editor, giving in to her sophisticated, superficial and stuck-up side that she liked to exaggerate to please her readers. And on top of all that, she was threatening to make him go mad with pop psychology worthy of the Three Broomsticks.

He hesitated for a moment. Should he continue this conversation? Or should he stay quiet and risk her suddenly realising he had still not agreed to talk to Marc? Not that he had anything against his future ex son-in-law. Marc was nice, intelligent, cultivated, had never cheated on his daughter, had never beaten her, had probably never even raised his voice against her (which definitely proved that the boy was a saint). Ok, so he was a Squib, but you couldn't have everything. And her daughter's first husband was a Muggle, so maybe the next one would be a wizard…

No, what bothered him was having to convince the boy that it was pointless to fight the divorce, because Dementia always got what she wanted in the end. No, that conversation promised to be awful. He resigned himself to distracting his daughter with talk about Harry.

"Alright, how is he emotionally?"

"Distraught? Terrorised? It's a classic case - his family didn't love him and neglected him, then he's given a new father but is even more unhappy than before…"

"It's not like I murdered him, Dementia. Don't exaggerate."

"Well you didn't exactly help him to re-find his emotional equilibrium."

And there it was! Psychology! Merlin's beard, what had he done to deserve this? Dementia had put her head in her hands and was watching him silently.

"You know," she continued, "it's not how much you punished him that annoys me-"

"I see."

"Don't think for a second that I approve-"

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied sarcastically.

"No, what annoys me is; one, that you deprived him of food, so I had to make him eat a sandwich; and two, that you didn't even bother to go see him to talk to him about it-"

"Merlin's beard, talk about what?" exploded Snape. "And what sandwich?!"

Dementia suddenly stopped talking and crossed her arms stubbornly. "I refuse to talk about this anymore if you're going to start shouting!"

"Thank Merlin."

Silence fell once more, but Snape knew it wouldn't last. He was right.

"That said, I'm assuming that when you agreed to look after this boy your aim wasn't to make him as miserable as possible…"

He looked at her. She smiled at him, looking pleased with herself. He rolled his eyes. It had been like this ever since she had realised that her small smiles could get her whatever she wanted - in other words, since she had been three and a half.

He looked at her again. "If I go to see him, will you wipe that exasperating smile off your face?"

"At least until the end of the week!"

It was better than nothing.

"Can I at least finish this potion?"

"Please do."

"Are you planning to carry on sitting there watching?"

"Am I annoying you?" she asked in a small voice. "We haven't seen each other for 10 months, I thought you would want to spend more time with me…"

Snape looked up. Was she going to turn on the waterworks? He could never work out if she was actually unhappy or if she was putting on an act when she did that.

"Yes of course I want to see you. Stay if you like, but for the love of God don't touch anything!"

"Oh," she replied, offended, "nice to hear you think I'm such a screw up-"

"I'm still paying for the Beauxbatons laboratory to be fixed!"

Dementia started laughing and even Snape deigned to smile.

He worked in silence for an hour while Dementia studied a brochure and made notes on a piece of parchment. He glanced at the brochure, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw what it was. The St Mungo's exam. So, Dementia was planning to re-start her thesis and sit the exam.

She had been 18 when she had abandoned it and since then he hadn't stopped hoping that she would open her eyes to reality and finish her qualification. It was up to her whether she wanted to continue to be chief editor or to start at St Mungo's. But once she had this qualification, he wouldn't have to worry about her future.

After ten more minutes of silence, Dementia began tapping her perfectly manicured fingers on the workbench. Ten minutes later Snape cracked.

"Dementia!"

"Yes?"

"I have 15 minutes left and then I'm going to see Harry."

"Ok," she replied, and stopped trying to get on her father's nerves.

He sighed. His daughter was well and truly unbearable. He wondered where she had got that from; he wasn't like that, except for bad language. Her mother wasn't either; she asked for something once, and if she was refused, she would strike out - she wasn't manipulative at all. But Dementia could manipulate and make people feel guilty to an Olympic standard.

15 minutes later, as promised, he put the stopper back into the last phial of potion and, leaving cleaning up until later, he made his way to Harry's room, Dementia hot on his heels. He stopped on the middle of the stairs and turned towards her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm coming with you."

"Dementia-"

"I promise I won't say anything! But he'll be less defensive if I'm there…"

Snape didn't respond and continued walking. She was exasperating when she was right. When they arrived at Harry's door, she scampered in front of him and knocked on the door.

"Harry? It's Démi. Dad… ow!" she protested, as her father slapped the top of her head, "I mean Father would like to talk to you for a bit. Can we come in?"

No response.

"He must still be asleep," Dementia explained, opening the door.

But Harry wasn't on the sofa anymore. She took a quick look in the bathroom. No one was there. She and Snape exchanged a look. Suspicious, Snape opened the wardrobe. Harry's Firebolt had disappeared, as well as his invisibility cloak.

"Dad!" Dementia, who had gone into the bedroom, called.

He joined her and shot her a questioning look, worried. "What is it?"

Even as the words left his mouth, he saw what had made his daughter panic. Harry's bedroom window was wide open. Dementia leaned out the window.

"We really have to sort out the manor's security!"

Snape shot her a cold look. "No one can get in."

"Yes, but we can get out whenever we like."

Snape grimaced. He tried to remain calm but could feel himself getting angry. How dare Harry do this? How could he be so stupid? Sneaking out like this, with the Dark Lord at large! And for what? A few hits from a belt?

When he got his hands on him, the bloody boy would understand what 'punishment' really meant!

"Ok, what should we do?" Démi asked, jerking Snape out of his thoughts.

"You? Nothing. You've already done enough!"

"What?" she protested, indignant. "That's rich! How can you say it's my fault?"

Snape growled but didn't reply. He went back to his room, Démi on his heels. He slammed the door in her face and changed quickly.

He came back out of the room and said, "He must have gone to complain to Black or Molly. I'll go and find him."

"I'll come with you!"

"No."

"You mistook that for a question," she shot back.

"Very well. But I'm warning you, there's no point trying to convince me to be lenient about this!"

"Can we find him before we start planning to kill him?" Démi replied sarcastically.

Snape rolled his eyes, walked into the garden, and apparated to the Weasleys'.

.

oOo

.

Sirius paced about his living room. How many hours did it take that train wreck of a house elf to make him a coffee? It wasn't too much to ask, was it? Just one coffee? And he didn't see why Kreacher had muttered "That's all I need". Was it a thinly veiled reference to his foul temper? Surely he had more than enough reason to be in a bad mood? His nephew, James' son, forced to call Snivellus 'father'! That really did it! If that bloody sewer rat ever had the misfortune of doing anything bad to Harry, he would dismember him as soon as Dumbledore's back was turned!

After all, he _was_ supposed to be a vicious murderer.

"Kreacher!" he suddenly yelled. "My coffee!"

His mother's portrait (which he had forgotten about) immediately began spewing insults. Kreacher, who acted very quickly when he wanted to, had only just managed to close the heavy curtains over the portrait of the honourable Mrs Black when someone knocked at the door loudly enough to make the walls tremble.

His mother started yelling again. Sighing, Sirius went to open the door.

.

oOo

.

"What do you mean he isn't here? Are you making fun of me, Black?"

"Looks like it," Sirius replied in the same tone.

Dementia exchanged a look with Kreacher. The two old enemies had been arguing in circles for the last ten minutes.

"Right," she said, deciding to intervene. "You two jumping at each other's throats won't help us find Harry!"

"And maybe _you_ shouldn't have started interfering!" Snape yelled.

"And _you_ ," Dementia retorted, "shouldn't have started acting like a… a…"

"Evil git?" Sirius offered.

"I had a more imaginative phrase in mind," the young woman replied, "but yes, that's the general idea."

"I see you're saving yourself time and have already found your next future ex-husband!" hissed Snape.

To his immense surprise and great indignation, instead of vehemently protesting, Sirius smiled in amusement and Dementia blushed as she looked away. That was all he needed! Turning brusquely on his heels, he stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

"He has an overactive imagination," Démi whispered, while Kreacher made his way to the portrait.

"Yes," Sirius agreed.

"I should probably follow him…"

Without daring to look at each other, they brusquely walked in opposite directions. Dementia caught up with her father.

"He's worried about Harry, that's all."

Snape just grunted.

"I have an idea."

"Go ahead."

"Hedwig is still at the manor. She'll find him wherever he is."

"And you think all we have to do is ask the bloody boy to come back?"

Dementia rolled his eyes. He could be so stubborn when he had already made up his mind. "Maybe be nice. Just a bit."

"Are you asking me to forget about all this?"

Dementia sighed. That idea hadn't even got off the ground. She knew full well her father was right. For once.

"What should we do, then?"

Snape thought about it for a moment. "We're going home. I'll contact Dumbledore."

Démi shrugged. She wondered how she would get Harry out of the hole he had dug for himself. She didn't have any chance of winning her father over and saving Harry from a punishment that, really, he kind of deserved. Snape was going to tear him to pieces.

Maybe Professor Dumbledore would be able to calm him down - he always managed to find the right words. And then he would surely be able to find Harry in less time than it would take to say "purifying herbal tea".

As soon as they got home, Snape threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and stuck his head inside, yelling "Albus Dumbledore's office!"

"Severus?" the old man asked, looking up.

"I have a problem, Albus. Harry has disappeared."

"What happened, Severus?"

"We had an argument and I punished him. He escaped."

Albus stood up and stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Have you checked with Sirius?"

"He isn't there, or with the Weasleys."

"Miss Granger?"

"She's spending the summer with the Weasleys."

"Alright. Don't worry, Severus, I will find him and bring him back to you. Stay at home and remind Dementia that I am expecting her on the 1st September."

Snape agreed, put out the fire and sat in his armchair. Démi sat by his side, on the arm of the armchair, as she usually did. He automatically put his arm around her.

"He will find him."

"Hmm," Snape replied. "What did he mean by 'I am expecting Dementia on 1st September'?"

"Oh."

"Yes?"

Dementia sighed. He would find out sooner or later. "I'm going to finish my thesis. Don't get too excited! Dumbledore is going to let me live at Hogwarts and use the library. And in exchange, I'll be helping Madam Pince."

Snape smiled. "What will your thesis be about?"

"I'm not sure yet. Something about teenagers - maybe the impact of an overly severe upbringing on an already fragile emotional state…"

"I'm splitting my sides laughing."

Dementia couldn't help laughing at the black look her father gave her. Finally, she stood and brushed down her dress. "Right, I'm going to do some work in the library. Don't forget to let Sirius know when Dumbledore finds Harry!"

"Black," growled Severus.

Dementia rolled her eyes and slammed the door to the library while Snape sat in front of the fire, deep in thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Translator's note : Hi everyone. I would like to apologise for how much of a wait there was between chapters – this was entirely my fault. Basically, various things happening in real life meant that I no longer had time to work on this translation, and things have only just started to look up again. Fortunately, this means I had time to translate this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it! I'll try and make sure that this doesn't happen again.**

 **.**

 **Author's note : Hello everyone, This is the chapter, I hope you will love it and that you will forgive us the delay.**  
 **Just a small reminder: people who leave reviews in "guest" mode: it's not that I do not want to answer you, it is that I can not (I would not answer on the following chapters and I would not open forum pages for that). If you want an answer, log in or leave me an email or join, I will try my best to answer you as soon as possible.**  
 **I would also like to point out that this fic has minor abuse. Obviously, I do not approve of these practices. But the story is so and reflects my image of the involvement of the wizarding world in the protection of minors through my reading (even if I go a little in the extreme). I would not discuss this narrative choice, but I do not see any drawbacks in talking about the points that led me to think that among wizards, it is better not to need the help of an adult! Those who do not like history can read others. For others (the most abundant): good reading!**

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* * *

.

"Thanks Mrs Thomas," Harry said, taking a cookie.

"Ok," his classmate said once his mother had left the room. "I get why you ran away, but why did you come here?"

"I don't want them to find me straight away. If I'd gone to Ron or Hermione's they would have found me and if I'd gone to wizards…"

"They would have told Dumbledore, right. I can't believe it – Snape! You're really unlucky, mate!"

"Yeah, you said."

"Well, you can stay here as long as you like."

"Thanks Dean."

There was a knock at the door and Mrs Thomas walked in.

"Your food is on the table. Harry, are you sure your cousin is alright with you staying here?"

"Yes, Mrs Thomas," Harry replied. He felt a bit guilty for lying to Dean's mother – she was a really nice woman. "She was the one who suggested it when she found out one of my friends lives here. If it's ok with you, obviously," he added.

"Of course it is. Right, sit down!"

During the meal, the Thomas family chatted and laughed. Dean bickered with his sister and both of them tried to convince Harry to take their side. The difference between the atmospheres here and at Snape Manor were striking.

After the meal, the boys went to rent a film from Blockbuster and spent the evening in front of the TV, much to the annoyance of Cheryl, Dean's sister, who wanted to watch videos. At the end of the evening, when the boys were getting ready for bed, there was a knock at the front door. Mrs Thomas went to open it, and several minutes later she knocked on the bedroom door.

"Harry? Professor Dumbledore wants to see you."

Harry and Dean exchanged a look but didn't dare react in front of Mrs Thomas. They went into the living room. Dumbledore stood up as soon as he saw them.

"Ah, Mr Thomas, Harry! I am sorry to put an end to your evening, but Harry must come with me."

Resigned to his fate, Harry packed up his things, thanked Dean's parents and said goodbye to his classmate.

"I tried," he muttered.

"Write to me," Dean replied, smiling sympathetically.

Harry followed the professor outside.

"We will find a quiet spot so that we can disapparate."

"Are you taking me back there?"

Dumbledore didn't reply.

"What if I don't want to go?"

"I'm afraid you have no choice, Harry."

Harry didn't argue. What good would it do? He suspected that the headmaster didn't actually know the reason why he had fled and, if he was going to be taken back there against his will, he wouldn't humiliate himself further by begging.

Dumbledore reached out and took Harry's arm. A second later, they were standing in front of Snape Manor. Harry swallowed, a lump in his throat. Dumbledore led him into the manor and headed towards the living room without hesitating.

"My dear Severus, did you lose something?"

Snape stood quickly, almost knocking Dementia off the arm of the armchair. She threw herself at Harry and hugged him.

"Are you ok? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Harry replied, hugging his sister back but staring at Snape over her shoulder.

Snape, who was much too calm, watched Harry. Torn between relief and fury, he was trying to maintain control. When Harry saw the Potions Master take a step forwards, he stiffened in Démi's arms.

Démi stepped away from him and looked at Dumbledore.

"Headmaster, please stay for a cup of lemon tea."

Severus frowned. She had trapped him – if he were to be polite, he would have to stay too.

"Go to your room," he spat at Harry.

Dementia pushed Harry forwards, encouraging him to do as he was told, and called Kookie to ask for some tea. Once tea was served, she stood up.

"Please excuse me, I'm just going to quickly write to Sirius to let him know everything is ok. Don't leave, Albus!"

And before anyone could protest, she had disappeared into her father's study.

"Is Dementia afraid of you?"

Severus growled, "If she thinks she's avoiding a good-"

"Maybe a good discussion would be more beneficial than demonstrating your authority in such a way."

Snape shot his mentor a black look.

"But you know best, of course," the old man finished.

oOo

Dementia grabbed a piece of parchment and began writing Sirius a short note.

 _Sirius,_

 _Just a quick letter to let you know everything is ok. Harry is back at the manor safe and sound. I'll let you know what happens next. Don't worry, I'll look after him._

 _Best wishes,_

 _Dementia Snape_

She walked out of the study and whistled sharply, making her father wince. A black owl arrived almost immediately. "Nexus, take this to Sirius Black, number 12 Grimmauld Place, London."

As soon as the owl had flown away, Démi perched back on the armrest. Dumbledore smiled and stood up.

"Oh," exclaimed Dementia, "are you leaving already?"

"Stop that right now," Snape scolded in a sharp tone.

For once she did not reply, but remained stubbornly silent. Once Dumbledore had left, Snape sat back down for a moment, his head in his hands. He breathed in and out deeply several times in a row before standing up and going into his study. He came back out moments later holding his cane.

Dementia hastily stood up to block his path.

"You have to calm down first."

"I'm perfectly calm, Dementia."

"Oh," she replied, sarcastically. "You're going to kill him calmly?"

"That's the idea…"

Dementia closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.

"Oh please, Démi, I'm not going to kill him. You're acting like I'm a heartless monster."

Dementia frowned. "I didn't say anything like that. But your heart _is_ buried so deep that it takes a lot of time and a bloody lot of effort to reach it."

Snape glared at her then looked at his cane. Dementia crossed her arms, a spark of defiance in her eyes daring him to "just try it and see what happens".

"Well tried," Snape murmured, turning on his heels and heading towards Harry's room.

Dementia flopped into Snape's armchair, disheartened. "Sorry Harry, I tried," she whispered.

An owl tapped on the living room window. Dementia opened the window and took the letter – it was very thick and addressed to Harry.

 _This will make him feel better_ , she thought.

Twenty minutes after he had gone upstairs, Snape reappeared and immediately disappeared into his laboratory, slamming the door.

Dementia hesitated only for a fraction of a second before grabbing the letter and going to Harry's room. She found him lying on his bed on his front, his head buried in the pillow. She sat down next to him.

"That wasn't very clever, you know."

He didn't reply. She put a hand on the back of his neck – his heart was racing.

"You should take a shower, it'll relax you."

He shook his head.

"Why not?"

"I can't move," he muttered. "It hurts too much."

His voice was hoarse. Dementia knew it was either from crying or screaming… or perhaps both.

"Would you like me to take a look?"

He hesitated for a second and then agreed. Dementia took off his t-shirt and looked at his back; it was red, and some marks were turning blue. She couldn't see any cuts. Her father had been harsh but had obviously held back.

"It'll be ok," she said quietly. "But take a shower, I promise it'll relax you."

He sat up straight with difficulty, grimacing and biting his lip. Dementia helped him as much as she could and walked with him to the bathroom door. Ten minutes later, he came out and sat near her on the sofa.

"It did help," he said.

"Told you."

She noticed that his eyes were red, but didn't mention it.

"By the way," she said, grinning, "an owl brought you this."

She handed him the letter. He took it, smiling sadly, and opened it.

 _Hi mate,_

 _Like you probably guessed, I'm in shock. Snape adopted you?! That bloody greasy, sadistic, crazy bastard! I understand why you cleared off! And don't worry, I understand why you didn't come to me. You should have seen Mum. She was livid when Snape told her you'd left! I don't know if they've found you yet but thought I'd write anyway. Mum's going to ask Snape if you can come and see us or if we can go and see you._

 _Hang in there mate!_

 _Ron_

Harry smiled. Ron had really made an effort – his letter was longer than normal. He changed position and his painful back made him wince. Dementia stroked his cheek comfortingly. On an impulse, he gave her Ron's letter and watched her while she read it. She definitely reminded him of someone. She had Snape's eyes and hair, but her skin was paler and less waxy. And there was something else… The shape of her eyes, her nose…

He shook his head. He didn't know what it was.

He unrolled the second piece of parchment that had come with the letter and smiled when he saw Hermione's neat handwriting.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I hope you're ok and that you got back safe and sound._

 _Harry, when Professor Snape came to see if you were here I thought I would have a heart attack. Knowing you were out in the open, somewhere, with Voldemort and his Death Eaters on the loose… That was very reckless._

 _I know that being adopted by Professor Snape can't be easy for you, but I'm sure you know that if Professor Dumbledore wanted this to happen, it was for your own good! I'm sure that if you make an effort everything will turn out alright; when he came to the Weasleys', he wasn't just angry, he was also really worried…_

 _I hope he won't punish you too much and that he'll let us see you. Mrs Weasley said she would try to convince him, and I'm sure he'll agree._

 _Harry, please look after yourself and don't get yourself into any dangerous situations again._

 _See you soon,_

 _Hermione_

 _PS: Have you done your homework for the holiday? I've finished and Ginny started a while ago, but the boys still haven't done anything._

Harry rolled his eyes and gave Dementia the letter. She scanned it quickly and smiled. "That girl has a sensible head on her shoulders."

"Do you think he'll agree?" Harry asked.

"Straight away? Not a chance. But your birthday is in just over two weeks – I'm sure I can convince him to invite your friends to stay for a few days between then and now… If only so he doesn't have to listen to me begging anymore."

Harry nodded, smiling. A wave of tiredness washing over him, he let himself lean against Démi. The bedroom door slammed open, making them jump. Dementia sat up slowly, her expression dark.

"You know the rectangle made of wood? You're meant to knock on it."

"Outside!"

Dementia made an indignant noise as she stood. She kissed Harry's forehead and whispered, "Don't worry."

 _Easy for you to say_ , Harry thought, anxiously watching Démi close the door behind her. Snape watched Dementia leave and then turned his attention to Harry.

"I've calmed down," he announced, sitting in the armchair opposite the young man. "We can discuss things now."

Harry preferred to stay silent. Snape sighed.

"Listen, I didn't explain anything to you at the time. I was furious and I punished you by shouting and reigning myself in so that I wouldn't end up killing you for good. But it was very stupid to run away like that."

It took a supreme amount of self-control for Harry not to reply to that comment.

"You put yourself in danger. And even worse, you put your friend's family in danger. A muggle family would have been unable to defend themselves if they were attacked."

Harry's head snapped up. He hadn't wanted to put Dean in any danger. "I hadn't thought of that," he muttered.

"Obviously. But like I told you at Hogwarts, as far as I am concerned you have been punished and it is over. I know it's late but I'm not going to let you go to bed straight after punishment. You can stay and think in your room if you wish, but I would prefer it if you came downstairs to spend some time with us."

With that, Snape stood up and left the room. Harry thought it over for a moment. Any tiredness he had previously felt had gone, and he would never sleep while he was this tense. He wouldn't be able to live with a hostile relationship like this either - it wasn't the same as the Dursleys, because Snape was also at Hogwarts and Harry couldn't escape him there. He thought about Hermione's advice. Snape had made an effort, so maybe he should too.

Harry sighed. He picked up his Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions books as an excuse to go downstairs. He walked in front of Snape and Démi, who were playing chess in the living room, and shut himself in the library. He circled the room for a minute or two, looking for a good excuse and the right moment to approach Snape. He opened the door a crack and glanced into the living room.

"Checkmate!"

Dementia stood up, looking very dignified, and went to her room without a word.

"You're a bad loser!" Snape shouted after her.

Harry hesitated and then, reminding himself that he was a Gryffindor, said "Father?"

Snape turned towards him. "Yes?"

The lack of anger in Snape's voice and expression told him that the professor considered the matter from before closed; Harry felt encouraged to continue.

"Er… can you help me? With my homework. Can you just take a look at it?"

Snape agreed, not voicing his opinion that people didn't generally do their homework at 10:45 at night, but suspecting that Harry hadn't managed to find another pretext for speaking to him. He followed Harry into the library. The boy handed him the draft of his Defence Against the Dark Arts homework. Severus read it in silence and then sat down next to Harry at the table.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing towards a quill.

"Go ahead."

Snape made a few marks in the margin. "Not bad. If Lupin were your teacher you would get top marks."

"And with you?" Harry asked.

Snape thought for a moment. "Perhaps Exceeds Expectations – you haven't developed your answers enough."

Harry nodded and put the homework to one side - he would write it out again later. He handed Snape a second piece of parchment.

"Ah," Snape sighed. "Potions. Harry, why do you find Potions so difficult?"

"The professor," Harry said automatically, before biting his lip.

"I see. And apart from the professor?" Snape asked, rolling his eyes.

"I don't know," Harry muttered, lowering his gaze.

"I can't help you with the theory – learn it by heart and that will be enough. I can recommend you books for your homework. But if you want I can help you with the practical."

Snape couldn't help smiling at the fact that Harry didn't seem convinced at all.

"I promise not to shout, or to get angry-"

"Ok, fine," Harry muttered.

"Good. It's late, so not today. Go to bed."

"Yes Father."

Harry went to his room and flopped onto his bed face first. He didn't really know where he stood; he couldn't understand Snape at all. He had after all beaten him twice in less than 72 hours but was being nice to him at the moment.

He didn't understand why Snape was so strict with him when it was obvious that Dementia hadn't received the same upbringing at all. Perhaps it was in part because of the animosity between Snape, his father and Sirius.

Before he knew it, his previous exhaustion caused by the day's events caught up with him and he was asleep.

The next day he woke up to find a hand shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes and found Dementia looking at him.

"Wake up Sleeping Beauty! It's 10 o'clock!"

"What?! Has he said anything?"

"Don't panic, he just said you would have a better appetite at lunch. But if you want me to take you to see Sirius, we need to go now!"

Harry leapt out of bed, stifling a groan; the pain was worse than yesterday. Fifteen minutes later, he was ready and disapparated with Dementia.

He had barely got through the door of number 12, Grimmauld Place before he threw himself into Sirius' arms.

"Are you ok?" His godfather asked, hugging him back.

"I am now."

oOo

"Well what would _you_ have done?"

"Not that," Sirius said dryly. He handed a phial to Harry. "Drink that, it'll take the pain away."

Sirius couldn't help but notice that Harry hesitated. He turned to Dementia, furious. "Do you think it's normal that he refuses treatment?"

"Don't take it out on me, Sirius," Dementia protested. Harry shot her a look. Dementia sighed. "Does it still hurt?"

"Of course it still hurts, you saw what Snivellus did to him!"

Dementia shot him a black look and focussed her attention on Harry, who nodded.

"Then drink the bloody potion."

"Yes but…"

"Did he specifically forbid you to?"

"No."

"Well there you go then!"

Sirius smiled in amusement. Harry shrugged and swallowed the potion.

"If he finds out you took it, I'll tell him we forced you to."

Harry grumbled and leaned against Sirius.

"Why didn't you come here?" Sirius asked.

"Isn't that obvious?" muttered Dementia.

"I didn't want him to find me."

"Do you honestly think I would have turned you in?"

"Hey!" Démi protested. "We're talking about my Father here, not You-Know-Who!"

"At least I can kill Voldemort without suffering the wrath of Dumbledore!"

Dementia jumped. "Don't say his name!"

Sirius rolled his eyes but didn't comment. "Ok," he said, turning towards Harry again, "apart from his despicable way of bringing up children, how is it going with Snivellus?"

"Severus!" Dementia reminded him through gritted teeth. "He cheats at chess."

Harry burst into uncontrollable laughter and Démi crossed her arms, annoyed. Sirius smiled, but clearly didn't understand why Harry was laughing. When it was explained to him, Sirius looked at the young woman in amusement.

"Ok fine," she groaned. "I have to go to the office. I'll come and find you when it's time for lunch. If we're late he might faint in horror."

Harry nodded, happy to spend some time alone with his godfather.

While the two men resumed their conversation, Dementia did in fact apparate into an office, but it wasn't her own. She sat down opposite a man who seemed to be about thirty.

"So you did come," he stated, crossing his hands over the forms on his desk.

"As if I had a choice… Why have you changed your mind?"

"I haven't. I'm still letting you have the divorce. But you didn't fill in some of the forms correctly and I felt like having a bit of fun."

"Stop it, I can't stop laughing," Dementia said sardonically. "What did I forget?"

"Your parents' names."

"And you couldn't fill that in for me?"

"Your father, yes, but I don't even know your mother's name."

Dementia snatched the forms from him and wrote the names into the correct boxes. She stood up. Marc picked up the forms and read what she had written. He looked up in shock.

"Are you joking?"

"Do I look like I am?" She replied seriously. "Is that it? Is everything else fine?"

Marc nodded slightly. Dementia left the office without another word. He didn't try to stop her.

oOo

While Dementia was putting the finishing touches to her divorce, Harry made the most of having Sirius for himself without his friends intruding or Snape antagonising them. Apparently suddenly worried that Harry being adopted would make him forget his real parents, Sirius was telling him all about James.

The hour that Dementia was gone passed alarmingly quickly. Although Harry hadn't dared to confide in Sirius just how scared he was of Snape (he was worried that his godfather would become violent towards the Potions Master), and despite the fact that he wished everyone would forget he existed and simply let him live happily in this house with his godfather, he felt relaxed after having been able to talk about everything and nothing with him.

When Dementia arrived, 10 minutes late, he stood up reluctantly. Dementia immediately noticed how dejected he looked.

"Don't make that face, we'll come back."

Sirius hugged him close before letting him go and giving him a soft push towards Dementia. They walked into the street and past the protective charms, then disapparated, reappearing in the garden of Snape Manor.

Harry rushed inside, very aware that they were 15 minutes late.

"Why are you running?" Dementia asked, following him into the hall.

"We're late!"

"No we're not."

Harry froze in the doorway of the dining room. Snape, looking more than annoyed, had already started his meal.

"Father," the young man stammered, "I'm really sorry… I…"

Snape silenced him by raising a single hand. "Sit down and eat, Harry. I know perfectly well that it's not your fault – even a watch would be late if it was with Dementia."

Dementia shrugged, sat down, and soon disappeared behind _The Daily Prophet_.

"Where were you?" Snape asked.

"With Sirius," Harry answered, praying to Merlin that his father wouldn't get angry.

But Snape didn't comment. He simply gave his daughter an inscrutable look, but she didn't look up from her newspaper.

"I received a letter today. A letter about you."

"From Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"No. From Mrs Weasley."

Harry looked up, suddenly interested.

"Starting from tomorrow, you will see Ron and Hermione regularly. You will meet here, not at the Burrow – the manor has more protection. Dementia will look after you all – I have a lot of work to do in my lab."

"Thanks very much, Father," Harry replied, very happy at the idea of spending time with his friends.

"Hmmm." Snape grumbled. "Mrs Weasley is very persuasive."

He immediately gave Dementia a dark look; her newspaper suddenly seemed to be shaking, despite the lack of draft in the manor.

"When will I see them?"

"Mr Weasley and Miss Granger will be coming tomorrow. Mrs Weasley has invited us for dinner the day after tomorrow, but I declined…"

Harry lowered his head, disappointed, but lifted it again when he heard the end of Snape's sentence.

"… so you will be going with Dementia."

"No problem," Dementia crowed, still hiding behind her newspaper.

Snape shot her a sharp look. Intrigued by the sudden silence, Dementia lowered her newspaper slightly so that she could look over the top of it. As soon as she met the gaze of her father, she immediately hid behind the newspaper again, which shook even more with her silent laughter.

Deciding not to protest in any way, Snape ignored her entirely and turned towards Harry. "I have a lot of work to do this afternoon, so I will be in my lab. I want you to do your Transfiguration homework and part of your Potions homework - let's say 5 questions. Then you will come and see me so that I can correct it. If you have worked hard – and I mean _if_ – you can play Quidditch in the garden. I have a set of enchanted balls somewhere – it's not as good as playing in teams but it's quite fun."

Harry's face lit up and he ran to collect his books, shutting himself in the library.

Three hours later he knocked on the lab door.

"Have you finished?"

"Yes Father."

"Good. You can go and play in the grounds. Kookie will bring you the balls. By the way, from next week onwards Winky will be your personal elf. Need I tell you that she is delighted?"

"Thanks, Father."

Harry ran outside and stayed on his broom until Kookie called him in for dinner. Dementia didn't appear all evening.

oOo

At breakfast the next morning, Harry noticed that Snape was in a foul mood, and didn't dare say a word.

"Have you seen your sister?"

"No Father. Isn't she up yet?"

"She didn't come back," Snape replied curtly.

Harry noticed that his father was concerned by Dementia's mysterious absence; even though she was chronically late, she still spent every night in the manor, and this combined with the troubled times that they were living in meant that they soon began to worry.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi guys!**

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 **Here is chapter 5 (and chapter 6 is being translated). You know that I speak English very badly (I use google translate as well to read you as to write to you) so forgive me if sometimes my answers to your reviews are difficult to understand!**

 **I wrote this fic 9 years ago, in 2008 and I finished publishing it about 6 years ago, so sometimes I do not remember what I could invent so do not shout not on it if I tell you nonsense when I answer you (I have a memory of goldfish, it does not help!).**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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 **Good reading!**

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 **ps : for moaners of all kinds, click on the red cross at the top right and let those who love this story enjoy the fic!**

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Dementia stretched as far as she could and leant out of bed to see what the time was. 10:30. Ah. Even so, her father must have noticed that she wasn't there. While the thought of this would have made Harry shake in terror, she simply yawned and didn't make any effort to get up.

A muscly arm pulled her against the warm body next to her.

"Sleep well?"

"Mmmmm, yes," she purred.

"Have you seen what time it is? Don't you have to get back?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" she asked angrily.

"No," the man replied, chuckling. "I don't want you to get into trouble, that's all."

"Hmmm, I'm already in trouble, but never mind."

She turned towards her partner and started to kiss him, softly at first, then more passionately.

"Quickly," he said in response to her kisses, and she knew she would be even later.

45 minutes later, she was lying on his chest and lightly tracing his tattoos with her finger. She chuckled, making him raise a questioning eyebrow.

"I knew the Muggle proverb was true."

"What proverb?" he asked.

"Ex-cons are great in bed!"

At that he burst out laughing, but quickly became serious again. "I don't think this was a good idea…"

"You weren't complaining five minutes ago."

"I'm serious, Demi – I'm the same age as your father!"

"Which means the age gap is actually less than twenty years."

"Well, yeah… if you look at it that way…"

"It doesn't matter, does it? What really matters is that we're having fun. I'm going through a difficult divorce and life hasn't exactly been kind to you, so why should we get all worked up about it? Life is short."

"Is that what you think?"

"That's what I think, yes."

"I'm going to miss you and the way you think when you go to Hogwarts."

"Sirius, I'm not a student, I can go out when I want."

"And you'll look after Harry?"

"You know I will."

"Snivellus – sorry, Snape – tends to be a bit extreme…"

"Stop worrying… Instead, give me a good reason to stay longer…"

Sirius sighed melodramatically and pretended to be resigned before rolling her over and climbing on top of her, ready to live up to his reputation as a Casanova at Hogwarts and an ex-con.

oOo

Harry didn't dare ask his father anything. Dementia still hadn't come back and hadn't given any indication that she was ok, so lunch was just as gloomy as breakfast had been. Hermione and Ron would be arriving soon – at least Snape hadn't cancelled their visit. Harry was sitting on his bed reading his Defence Against the Dark Arts book when there was a sharp knock on his door and Snape walked in.

"Is Demi back?" Harry asked.

"No, but that's not why I'm here. I want to talk to you about today. Your friends will be coming as planned, but the rules have not changed. You will ask my permission before going anywhere, you will not leave the grounds and you will remember to call me father and to show me the respect that I deserve."

"Yes, Father."

"Friends or not, I will not hesitate to punish you, and I will even do it in front of them."

Harry gulped and nodded – he knew that Snape was serious and that he wouldn't hesitate for a second before humiliating him in front of Ron and Hermione. Where was Dementia when you needed her? He decided to stay calm, not to lose his temper and, most of all, not to answer back under any circumstances.

Satisfied with his son's reaction, Snape went back downstairs to the laboratory to think about the different ways he could torture the bloody girl when he got his hands on her.

At 2 o'clock precisely, Ron and Hermione arrived. Harry rushed to the door to let them in. He was immediately attacked by a head of bushy brown hair that alternately hit him and hugged him tightly.

"Hermione? Calm down, I'm fine."

"Where were you?"

"At Dean's."

Ron rolled his eyes, pushed Hermione aside and gave his friend a quick hug. "You alright mate?"

"Yeah. I'm happy to see you guys."

"Where's Professor Snape?" Hermione asked.

"In his lab-"

"We should go and say hello. Come on, Ronald."

"Er… I don't know, Hermione, he's in a bad mood," Harry said.

"It's only polite, Harry."

Sighing, Harry went to knock on the laboratory door, his friends close behind him.

"Come," Snape said sharply.

Harry opened the door slowly. "Father?"

"Is Dementia back?"

"Er… no, Father. Hermione and Ron just wanted to say hello, and I wanted to ask your permission to go into the grounds."

Hermione and Ron timidly muttered "Hello, Professor."

"Children," Snape said, nodding slightly. "Yes, you can go into the grounds," he said, turning towards Harry, "but you will come and tell me if there is a problem."

Harry nodded mechanically, and Snape glared at him.

"Yes, Father," he hastened to add before shutting the door.

They took a quick detour to the library where Hermione, gaping, chose a book to read while the boys played Quidditch before heading out into the grounds. When they arrived, they sat under a tree to discuss what had happened.

"Father?" Ron asked, eyebrow raised.

"I don't have a choice, Ron."

"Yeah I know, but it's weird. Are you going to have to call him that in classes as well?"

"I don't know. He hasn't mentioned it and I didn't dare ask."

"Why not? The worst he can do is make you leave," Hermione replied.

Harry looked at her and didn't say anything. They immediately understood that the worst, with Snape, couldn't be expressed out loud.

"Bloody hell," Ron swore through gritted teeth, causing Hermione to glare at him.

"Look, can we talk about something less depressing?" Harry asked, smiling nervously.

"Of course," Hermione said quickly.

Ron nodded, but the look on his face was clear: 'If you need to talk, don't worry, I'm here'.

"Harry," Hermione asked, "who is Dementia?"

Harry smiled properly this time. "Someone who's going to be in so much trouble. She's Snape's daughter."

"Snape has a daughter? Who was mad enough to have a child with him?" scoffed Ron.

"I don't know, it's more secret than the philosopher's stone. She reminds me of someone though, but I can't put my finger on who it is."

"Where is she, then?" Ron asked.

"We don't know," Harry replied, suddenly worried. "She didn't come back last night. I hope nothing's happened to her."

"Happened to who?" a cheerful voice asked from behind them.

The three friends jumped and leaned around the tree to get a look at who had spoken.

"He'll kill you," Harry said, grinning in relief.

"Did he notice I was late?"

"If you value your life, don't talk to him about being late," Harry joked. "If you're late, you come anyway."

"Why don't you stop being stupid and introduce me to your friends?" the young woman said, amused, and flopped down next to Hermione.

"Ron and Hermione, this is Dementia, my soon-to-be-late sister."

Dementia pulled a face at him and they had a short argument. Then the boys played Quidditch, leaving the girls to entertain themselves.

The weather started to show signs of developing into a thunderstorm, giving them no choice but to hurry back inside.

Harry and Ron played a game of chess while Hermione curled up in an armchair with her book. The lab door slammed, and Snape's footsteps sounded in the corridor.

"Ouch," Harry said.

Severus walked into the living room and smiled slightly when he saw them. "I thought I would come and see if everything was alright. Excellent choice, Miss Granger," he said, catching sight of the title of Hermione's book.

"Hi Dad," Dementia called from the corner of the room, where she was drinking her tea.

Snape jumped and turned towards her. "Are you alright?"

"Obviously."

"Did anything happen to you?"

"What would happen to me?"

"Apart from trouble," Harry whispered, worried. He found it much less funny now that the reality was before him. Snape gave him a cold look while Dementia gave him a mocking one.

"Right – lab. Now!"

Dementia shrugged and calmly walked towards her father's lab while Harry watched, worried and scared. Snape followed her and slammed the lab door behind them.

Dementia leaned on the edge of the desk. She at least had the good sense to look sorry. Snape slammed the lab door as hard as he could, then put his hand on it and closed his eyes.

"You're angry," Dementia observed.

"You think?" Snape said sharply. He turned around, his gaze hard. "I'm waiting for an explanation."

"I went to see Marc."

"All night? Do you think I'm an idiotic Squib?"

"Don't shout," she protested, her voice cold.

"I'm waiting for an answer!" Snape yelled.

"I'm not Harry! You don't scare me!"

"Answer me!"

"He wanted my mother's name!" Dementia yelled.

Snape's mouth snapped shut, his anger evaporating in the face of his daughter's blazing gaze. "Oh."

"Yes, _oh_ , Dad! And when he saw the name – surprise! He let me leave, just like all the others!"

"Demi…"

"How many more? How many more men are going to run away? How many schools are going to refuse me? Huh? How many doors will this close for me?"

"Dementia!"

"No! Go on, tell me – how long am I going to have to live with you because people refuse to sell me anything as soon as they know whose blood runs in my veins?"

"That doesn't give you the right to disappear and worry me sick."

"I'm 19. I've been married twice. I accept my responsibilities! When have you ever accepted yours? Was it responsible to let me be born?"

"I will not allow you-"

Dementia pushed him violently aside and stormed out the lab, Snape following her. They ended up in the living room, where Harry, Ron and Hermione were still sitting.

"Alima!"

The small elf appeared instantly. "Yes, Mistress Demi?"

"Be a dear and get a few of my things ready. Bring them you know where and pack the rest so they can be sent to Hogwarts."

Alima disappeared as fast as she had arrived. Dementia re-lit the fire with a flick of her wand and opened a pot from on top of the chimney. She threw a bit of powder into the fireplace and the flames turned green.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked.

"I'm not a child anymore Dad, and I don't need to be looked after. You haven't even noticed I've grown up. I'm sorry that you feel guilty because you weren't around enough to raise me, but your guilt isn't my problem."

"What are you going to do?"

"Don't worry, you'll see – I promise. I'm not coming back tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the other days, probably. We'll see each other in a month at Hogwarts!"

Before anyone had the chance to protest, she got into the chimney and threw a handful of Floo powder at the ground.

"Leaky Cauldron!"

She disappeared in a whirlwind. The green flamed flickered for a moment, then the fire turned orange again.

Silence fell in the room. Harry, who was as white as a sheet, was looking alternately from Snape to the chimney as if he was waiting for Demi to reappear, burst out laughing and tell them she had fooled them. Ron and Hermione stared at the ground silently.

Snape suddenly seemed to snap out of his trance and shot them a cold look. "Get out. Go to the library or Harry's room."

"Ok," Harry murmured, standing up.

Snape seized him by the arm and turned him so they were face to face, making the boy cry out in pain.

"Ok?"

"Father! Ok, Father! Sorry!"

The Potions Master threw him towards the staircase, angrily poured himself a Firewhisky and dropped into the armchair.

The three teenagers went to hide in Harry's room.

After a few minutes, Hermione broke the silence. "Show me your arm, Harry."

The young man rolled up the sleeve of his jumper, grimacing. Despite the thickness of his clothes, there was a red mark on his arm that was already starting to bruise.

"He's got a bloody strong grip," Ron muttered.

"Go and wet that with cold water, Ronald," Hermione said, handing him a clean T-shirt.

Ron complied immediately. Hermione gently squeezed Harry's hand to comfort him. When Ron came back with the wet shirt, she put it on Harry's arm. The cold immediately soothed the pain.

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

"I forgot to call him Father," Harry sighed.

"No, I mean with Dementia. How did they end up yelling at each other? And how was it bad enough that she left?"

"Dunno."

"And we don't care!" Ron cried. "Bloody hell, Hermione! He attacked Harry! Physically! And for no good reason, just because he didn't get the last word with his daughter! Harry, we have to tell Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore won't do anything, Ron."

"You don't know that."

"He already knows, and he hasn't done anything. He brought me back here after I left even though he knew what had happened and what would happen to me…"

Ron and Hermione were speechless.

"And Sirius?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"He knows too."

Hermione pulled Harry into her arms. "He'll calm down, Harry. I'm sure of it. Everything will be ok."

"Anyway, mate, my Mum has already said you can come stay with us as much as you like, and she's going to talk to Snape about it. Don't worry."

Harry smiled at them. "I'm not worried! But I am wondering where Dementia is."

"She probably went to stay with a friend," Hermione said reassuringly. "Or to stay at the Leaky Cauldron."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, but didn't look entirely convinced.

oOo

Sirius opened the door to find himself face to face with Dementia, who was soaked to the skin.

"Oh! A drowned rat!" His attempt at humour fell flat when he caught sight of Dementia's eyes. "You've been crying."

It wasn't a question, and Dementia didn't correct him.

"Is it Harry?"

"No, he's fine."

"What then?"

"I argued with my father."

Sirius had to bite the inside of his cheek hard enough to bring tears to his eyes to stop himself from saying that, in his opinion, it was impossible not to argue with Snape. He was, after all, self-centred, selfish, up to his eyeballs in dark magic, always thought he was right…

He gave Dementia his jacket.

"Come in, get dry and have something hot to drink. I'll ask Kreacher to get a room ready for you. Although, if I had my way, you would be in mine…"

Dementia managed a half smile. Sirius barked a few orders at Kreacher, who obeyed, grumbling as usual. Sirius led Dementia into the kitchen, steered her towards a seat next to the hot stove and produced a hot chocolate with two taps of his wand.

Dementia looked at her mug sceptically, making no move to drink it. "This thing is full of calories."

"Drink it, Demi," Sirius sighed.

Dementia pulled a face and swallowed a mouthful of chocolate. "Sirius…"

"Your room will be ready soon. You don't need to explain anything to me."

"The argument was really bad. I was angry that Marc agreed to the divorce without having second thoughts."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Sirius asked, frowning.

"It is," Demi replied, "but not like this. I didn't want him to do it because I disgust him…"

"What are you talking about?"

"Marc learnt something. Something about me. And as soon as he knew, he didn't want anything to do with me."

"You're imagining things, Demi."

"I can't stay here without…"

"Without what?"

Dementia seemed to think about it for a moment before reaching a decision. Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

"I need to talk to you, Sirius… about my parents."

"I know."

"I know it will be a shock for you but… what?"

"Demi," Sirius sighed, "I was in the same year as your father and I remember the exact day when she came into the Great Hall and put you in Snape's arms. You stayed at Hogwarts for a week. The only week out of our entire time at school when we left him alone. We almost felt sorry for him… You really could scream, you know."

"You knew."

"Yes."

"And it means nothing to you."

"No."

Dementia stayed quiet for a moment, digesting the information. She should have realised – everyone who was at Hogwarts at the time must know about it.

"So," Sirius said, jerking her out of her thoughts, "what are you going to do?"

"Now? Sleep. Harry is going to the Weasleys for lunch tomorrow and my father said I can take him. Then I'll spend a week in France with Mummy Isa and Uncle Charlus."

"The couple who raised you?"

"Is there anything you don't know?"

"What? I'm a genius!"

She threw a cushion at the genius' face.

The next day, Dementia apparated to the manor. Harry was doing his homework in the library.

"Hi!"

He jumped spectacularly and spun around to face her. "You came back!"

"No, I'm just here to take you to have lunch with the Weasleys, like we agreed."

"I don't know if he'll be ok with that," Harry muttered, looking at the floor. "He's in a bad mood."

"Go get him, please."

Harry sighed and walked to the lab with the gait of someone walking towards their death. He knocked softly on the door.

"Enter!"

"Father, Demi has come to collect me for the meal with the Weasleys."

Snape abandoned his work and went to the living room, followed by Harry.

"Where were you?"

"Not important. Do you want me to go with Harry to the Muggle world this afternoon?"

"Go ahead. There is Muggle money in my desk."

"Good. We'll go then. Oh, and I'm going to France tonight."

"I should have known," Snape muttered. "I'll be lucky if I don't get a Howler from Isabelle. As for you," he said to Harry, suddenly strict, "behave and do what your sister says if you don't want to be punished again."

Harry nodded. Snape stepped forwards and the boy flinched backwards into Demi.

"Father. Yes, Father," he replied hastily.

Dementia frowned but didn't say anything. She got the Muggle money and took Harry outside. They arrived just under half a mile from The Burrow.

"Alright, Harry?"

"Mmmm," the young man muttered.

"What's wrong?"

Harry shrugged, resigned. "Where were you?" he asked.

Dementia hesitated for a moment. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course!" Harry said, indignant.

"I was with Sirius."

"Really?!"

"Yes."

Harry smiled, feeling happy again. His godfather and Demi! It was brilliant. Snape would have a stroke if he found out. And if he had a stroke, Demi would be his guardian. And he would live with Sirius… He shook his head. He was letting his imagination run away with him – Snape wasn't even dead yet…

"So, you're going to stay with him?" he realised suddenly. "You're not coming back to the manor?"

"No, I'm going to France for a week. Then I'm going to New York for a week to meet with some fashion designers for the newspaper. Then there'll only be 15 days before the professors come back, so I'll be at Hogwarts. I'll come back for your birthday next week, before I go to New York."

Harry smiled. After all, Snape would calm down and all he had to do was behave himself. Maybe if he asked him for help with his Transfiguration homework…

Dementia jerked him out of his thoughts by announcing that they had arrived at The Burrow.

They had barely set foot in the yard before Mrs Weasley came out of the kitchen and headed for Harry like a heat-seeking missile. She hugged him so hard he could barely breathe.

"Are you ok, Harry, dear?"

"Yes, Mrs Weasley."

"Are you sure? Is he giving you enough to eat?"

"Yes, Mrs Weasley," Harry replied, while Demi hid her laughter behind a sudden coughing fit.

Mrs Weasley turned towards the young woman, her face suddenly expressionless. "Hello, Dementia."

"Hello, Mrs Weasley."

Harry frowned. Mrs Weasley, who was usually very friendly with everyone, was being as cold towards Demi as she had been with Hermione the year before, when she believed all the horrible things the _Daily Prophet_ had been writing about her. Before he could ask Demi about it, Ron and Hermione had arrived.

"Are you ok, Harry?" Hermione asked as soon as they were alone.

"Yeah," he reassured her. "Everything is fine."

He was dying to tell them about Demi and Sirius, but he didn't dare tell them without Demi's permission.

While they were eating, Dementia asked Ron and Hermione if they wanted to come with them to the Muggle world. Hermione sent an owl to her parents to ask their permission. Mrs Weasley refused point blank to let Ron go. Despite Ron's protests and Hermione and Harry pleading with her, she didn't change her mind.

At the end of the afternoon, Dementia announced that they were leaving and Harry and Hermione, whose parents had said yes, got ready to leave.

"I'll bring you back some Muggle things," Hermione promised Ron, who was sulking and refusing to talk to his mother.

Dementia apparated them to the Leaky Cauldron and they walked into Muggle London.

"Right, so we're looking for jeans, T-shirts, jumpers… where should we go?" Demi asked.

"The best place for that in London is Harrods on Brompton Road," Hermione decided.

After walking for several minutes, they arrived at the department store.

"Ok, let's split up and meet back here in an hour," Demi decided.

Harry, who had been worried that the girls would try to persuade him to buy things, was relieved when they all split off.

An hour later, they met up in front of the tills. Harry wasn't surprised to see that Hermione had bought books, though she had also bought herself a cardigan, as well as a scarf and several types of sweets for Ron. Harry had bought 4 pairs of jeans, 6 T-shirts, 3 shirts, 2 jumpers and some underwear. Finally, Dementia had bought a dress and a coat for herself, two pairs of men's jeans and three men's shirts, and a book entitled "I'm Grumpy but I'm Working on It".

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"A present for Dad," she explained.

Harry blanched – he had a feeling that he would hear about this again. He settled with saying "Nice shirts."

"They're for Sirius. He can't exactly go shopping."

Eyes widening with surprise, Hermione mouthed "Sirius and Demi?"

"I'll explain later," Harry mouthed back.

Dementia paid for everything, despite Hermione's protests, and they started walking back to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Does anyone need anything from Diagon Alley?"

"No," chorused Harry and Hermione.

Dementia took Hermione back first, then took Harry to Sirius'.

"Here, Black! Something so you look human," Dementia said maliciously, throwing the package to Sirius.

Sirius smiled, kissed her and turned to Harry. "So, was there a murder at Snape Manor?"

"Wait until he sees the book," Harry sighed.

Sirius burst out laughing when he saw the title of the book and lamented that he wouldn't be able to see his old enemy's expression when he saw it.

An hour later, Dementia gave Sirius one last kiss. "See you in a week!"

"Have fun."

When they got back to the manor, she gave her father the book and hurriedly left before he had the chance to open it. When he read the title, Snape shot Harry a cold look. Harry lifted his hands up to show his innocence.

"I tried to persuade her not to!"

Snape shrugged and threw the book onto the sofa. "Did you find what you needed?"

"Yes Father, thank you." Harry hesitated before continuing. "Father?"

"Yes?"

"Demi asked Ron and Hermione to come with us but Mrs Weasley wouldn't let Ron come. And she acted weirdly around her. What has she got against Demi?"

"I don't know, Harry."

Harry was suddenly sure that his father was lying to him.

"Go and put your things away," Snape ordered. He suddenly seemed tired and much older than his 34 years.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi people,  
This is chapter 6 and chapter 7 is being translated. With the translator we have some personal problems and we do not have much time to devote to this story. So I know that the publication deadlines are totally long and unpredictable, but we do our best and we will not give up this story! Remember that it is complete and published entirely in French, so it is certain that it will be published in full in English!  
I hope you would like!**

* * *

Dementia coughed when she got out of the chimney. A plump woman, who bore a striking resemblance to the fairy Merryweather from Sleeping Beauty, immediately wiped her hands on a cloth and walked towards her.

"Demi, sweartheart!"

"Mummy Isa!"

"Charlus, dear! Dementia has arrived!"

A tall man calmly walked into the small kitchen and kissed Demi on the forehead. Demi gave him a tender smile. Charlus was as tall and thin as Isabelle was small and plump. Her adoptive mother had blond hair liberally sprinkled with grey, giving it a colour that was hard to name. At almost 60 years of age, she had energy to spare, got involved in everything and didn't hesitate to scold those around her.

Charlus was unflappably calm. His life's ambition was to spend the rest of his days quietly tending his garden. A bit older than his wife, he was also very discreet and, despite his considerable height, he often seemed shorter than his wife when she got into one of her legendary tempers. But under his calm exterior, Charlus was much stricter than Isabelle. Whereas a smile immediately won over the woman, Dementia had never been able to avoid Charlus' punishments when she became too unbearable. Demi was convinced that before her very eyes was a carbon copy of what the Weasley couple would be in twenty years.

"So," Isabelle continued curiously, "to what do we owe your sudden visit?"

"That means Isabelle is pleased to see you," Charlus intoned with a smile.

"What?" The woman in question asked. "Of course I'm pleased to see her! So, why are you here?"

Dementia sighed. She wouldn't sugar coat it. She got comfortable on the sofa in the living room with a cup of tea, and started to tell her adoptive mother about the latest events. She talked about Harry's adoption ("The poor boy," said Isabelle), her divorce and Marc's reaction ("I always knew that boy was too good to be true"), her affair with Sirius ("But he's 34!") and his reaction about her mother's identity ("As I've always said, older men are always more intelligent"), and finally she talked about Mrs Weasley's attitude towards her, which had hurt her more than she wanted to admit.

Isabelle sighed and exchanged a glance with her husband. Dementia had always been more or less protected from this type of reaction in France.

"I did tell you, dear, that it would have been better for you to come back here to live when you left Matthew."

"Marc, Mummy Isa."

"Well, I got it half right at least… I still think you should never have gone back to live with the cantankerous moaner that your father has become."

Dementia stiffened at the mention of her father. She was still angry with him. Her reaction didn't escape Isabelle's eagle eyes, and she quickly raised an imperious eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing," sighed Demi.

"Dementia!"

"We argued and I left the manor – there!"

Charlus cleared his throat once and Dementia breathed deeply to calm herself down. The only thing that had always caused Isabelle's husband to scold her, even punish her, was when she was disrespectful towards her adoptive mother.

"Sorry," she muttered.

Isabelle thought for a few moments, then continued with her questions. "What happened?"

"Nothing – I'd had a bad day because of Marc's reaction. After taking Harry home, I noticed that I had left my diary at his godfather's, so I went to get it. Sirius and I started talking. We talked about Harry, about how strict my father is towards him and how to make things easier between them…"

"Go on," Isabelle encouraged.

"And so several cups of tea later the conversation drifted onto other subjects – my work, his past… When we started talking about us, we got closer, and then I don't know how, but we kissed. I ended up spending the night with him."

"On the first night?" Charlus asked indignantly.

"Yes, well… The problem was that I hadn't warned Dad that I wasn't coming back. And the next day he made a real scene when I got back. I answered back and we ended up yelling at each other about it, so I packed my things and went back to Sirius."

"He was worried, that's all," Charlus said.

"Well, darling, Dementia isn't a child anymore, she's 19 – or almost 19. She's an adult, and Severus doesn't seem to realise it. Ooooooohhhhhh… I'm going to send him a howler! The whole country will hear! Shouting at my little darling - he's got a real nerve! And he used to be such a shy boy too! I even wondered how a boy who was so calm and immersed in his studies could have gotten to know a girl like her well enough to get her pregnant…"

Demi smiled; Isabelle would never change. However, she managed to convince her not to send a howler to Snape because, if she did such a thing, not only would it take years to make up with her father, but the bad temper that he would develop would boil over onto Harry. Isabelle agreed – the poor boy didn't need any more trouble. Charlus got up to go back to his garden and left the women to chat alone. But he made sure to tell Dementia that if she had spoken to _him_ in that tone, he would have immediately given her a spanking, 19 or not.

Dementia made a face, annoyed. The worst thing was that he was serious; the last spanking she had received had been when she was 16, when she had blown up the school lab. Her father had more or less said nothing, Isabelle had accused the professor of incompetence and Charlus had calmly waited until the evening. When Dementia had finally left the hospital wing (the school had wanted to make sure she was ok) and gone home to sort out her emotions, he had come up to see her.

Faced with his questions, which could not have been more precise, she had had no choice but to admit that she hadn't been listening to the professor, that she had been mucking about with her friends and that, if she hadn't tried to nick her friend's notes, she wouldn't have knocked an entire pot of newt eyes into her cauldron, and nothing would have happened. These forced admissions had meant that she had to sleep on her front for two days. She wasn't exactly eager to relive the experience.

Isabelle shot a dark look at her husband and muttered something about this unspeakable masculine solidarity, and that if someone had to be kicked up the backside, it was most certainly not her perfect little girl, but the bloody troll who was her father.

After talking about everything and nothing, the two women decided to make cookies in the Muggle style.

"Are you staying long?" Isabelle asked.

"A week. Next weekend it's Harry's birthday, and I promised to be there. And after that I'm going to New York for a week for work."

"You could do so much better than that job."

"Mummy Isa you know perfectly well that I wouldn't be offered another one."

"Maybe not in England, but in France or the US…"

"I'll think about it. I'm going to do my diploma," she added, after a moment of silence.

Isabelle smiled widely but refrained from commenting. Severus must have already exasperated Dementia with a happy smile and sarcastic comments. The women finished their cookies and left them to bake while Zara, the ancient house elf, cleaned the kitchen.

The week went by slowly and peacefully. Charlus took Dementia fishing, like he had done when she was little. Isabelle once again tried, without success, to convince her to learn to knit. They spent an entire day in a large city, and Dementia made the most of it by buying Harry a present and Sirius some French specialties.

And most of all, she relaxed. No stress, no worries, her divorce was underway… she was able to calmly prepare for her trip to New York and think about the subject of her thesis. While the subject that she had told her father as a joke was very interesting, she didn't think Harry would appreciate being a guinea pig… She was leaning more towards the rivalry between the houses, and how this rivalry had been passed down the generations.

At the end of the week, Dementia got ready to leave. She was going to see Sirius first, before going back to the manor.

She kissed Charlus and Isabelle and threw a handful of Floo powder into the hearth.

"The Leaky Cauldron!"

From there, she apparated to just outside the Grimmauld public garden.

"Sirius? It's me!"

She walked into the kitchen and froze. Sirius wasn't alone. Professor Dumbledore was sitting at the table, smiling in his usual amused way.

"Hello, Dementia."

"Professor," she stammered.

"I will not disturb you for long; I was just leaving."

Demi watched him leave without saying a word. Sirius smiled at her, reassuring her that Dumbledore wouldn't betray them and so they both still had a few years left to live. Dementia couldn't help but laugh at the image of her father dying of a heart attack after hearing about their affair, and immediately coming back as a poltergeist so he could chase Sirius with a stick.

To delay having to confront her father, she told Sirius about her holiday, but at the same time she didn't want to be too late. Harry would be overexcited about the idea of having his friends round and would risk annoying the master of the house. She preferred to be there so she could smooth things over.

After an hour, she picked up her present, took Sirius', threw a handful of powder into the fireplace and stepped into the flames, shouting "Snape Manor!"

Dementia coughed helplessly when she stepped out of the chimney.

Could someone remind her why she hadn't apparated? She was covered with soot now! Her outfit was ruined!

"That'll teach you to wear white," a mocking voice said from behind.

She heroically resisted the desire to stick her tongue out at him. Apparently, he had decided to act as though their argument hadn't happened. Perfect! She was very good at burying her head in the sand and playing that little game! She must have been an ostrich in a previous life.

"Where's the man of the hour?" she asked nonchalantly.

Her father's gaze instantly hardened. "In his room, if he knows what's good for him!"

Dementia narrowed her eyes. "What have you done to him?"

"Nothing."

"Dad!"

"Nothing at all! And Merlin knows I found it hard not to!"

Dementia made a face that clearly said, "You had better be exaggerating!"

"He was a nightmare all morning," Snape said in his defence.

"He's never been allowed to have any birthday parties at all. Surely it's to be expected that he would be overexcited?"

"And that's exactly why I haven't punished him."

Dementia sniffed sceptically and went upstairs to her brother's room. She walked in without knocking, deciding to scare him out of his wits, but her efforts were in vain: the room was empty.

Great… apparently he didn't know what was good for him.

She went into her own room and stopped dead. Harry was sleeping on the sofa. This was becoming a habit! What did they take her for, the Department of International Magical Cooperation? She almost woke him up, then decided that Harry must have woken up very early that morning and that it would be better to let him sleep until lunch. That way he wouldn't run the risk of annoying his father and would be in better condition for seeing his guests, who were arriving at 2 o'clock.

She settled herself onto her bed with a book and tried to relax.

After 45 minutes, she sighed and resigned herself to having to wake Harry up. If it had been up to her, she would have waited for another quarter of an hour, but Harry was so scared of being late… The boy was going to become completely neurotic living with her dear father.

She crouched in front of the sofa and violently shook the young man.

"Boo!"

"Just as well I don't have a heart condition, with you around," he reproached her, then smiled. "I'm glad to see you."

"That'll teach you to squat in my room!" she replied with a mocking smile. "What happened downstairs? He looked like he was in a bad mood, then I find you hiding in my room…"

"Nothing," Harry replied, sighing. "It seems that I'm tiring and made him age 10 years since breakfast. He sent me to my room and told me not to come out until I had calmed down, or to stay there until lunch."

"He doesn't really like excitement," Demi explained.

"I noticed… It's going to be a great afternoon," he sighed.

"No, he'll lock himself in his lab. I'm here to look after you, so he won't hang about!" she reassured him.

Harry smiled and stood up. He went to take a quick shower and change his clothes in his room, then went downstairs, pushing Demi to walk in front of him.

"No," he said, walking into the dining room, not noticing that Snape was already sitting down, "I promise you, no one will know you were on time for lunch, your reputation is safe."

He sat down while Dementia cried out in false indignation and Snape snickered mockingly, making Harry jump. But Snape seemed to have decided not to bring up the morning's scene, and Harry slowly relaxed.

Dementia ate her food at top speed while discussing the arrangements with her father.

"So you'll stay in your lab and won't stick your giant nose into Harry's party?"

"Will you leave the size of my nose out of this?"

"So?"

"I won't come out of the lab before 6," he allowed.

Dementia nodded, visibly happy with this, and turned towards Harry. She made him remind her of the friends who had agreed to his invitation for the afternoon, checked with the house elves that everything was ready, then moved on to the evening meal, which would be more like a meal for an extended family, much to Snape's despair. The whole Weasley family was coming to it, as were Remus and Sirius, Hermione and the unbearably clumsy Nimphadora Tonks.

Snape inwardly groaned – the evening was going to be long. But, paradoxically, the idea of depriving Harry of a party had never occurred to him.

At around ten to two, he beat a hasty retreat to his lab. 10 minutes later the first guests, who happened to be the Patil twins, arrived. They were soon followed by Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, Lavender Brown, Luna Lovegood and a dozen other classmates.

The Weasley children, accompanied by Hermione, arrived last of all – if Hermione's and Ginny's level of exasperation was anything to go by, this was the boys' fault.

Dementia waved her wand at the record player, and music by the Weird Sisters filled the manor. Harry glanced worriedly at the lab door; Snape didn't like noise. When he met Demi's gaze, she shrugged and mouthed something that looked like, "He's cast a Silencing Charm!"

Harry nodded, looking relieved, before almost collapsing under the weight of Seamus, who had jumped onto his back.

At around 4, Demi had the cakes brought in and Harry opened all of his presents, except for the ones from Hermione, Ron, Fred, George and Ginny. He preferred to open those during the evening.

At around 6 the guests left, still wishing Harry a happy birthday and enthusiastically saying "see you in a month" to each other.

At 6:05 precisely, Snape came out of his lab.

"Are the party animals gone?" he asked, mockingly.

"Yes, Father," Harry replied. He rolled his eyes, making the most of the fact that his back was turned to the Potions Master. A second later, a cushion landed on his head.

"I saw that!"

Harry smiled but didn't reply, and Snape re-joined Dementia in the kitchen.

"What was that?" Ron asked.

"The Potions Master has a sense of humour," George managed.

"He must have taken a cheering potion," Fred added.

"No," Harry explained. "He bet Demi 30 Galleons that he wouldn't be mean this evening."

"That's unfair," Hermione joked. "Dementia is bound to win…"

"My sister needs a new outfit," Harry replied. "She ruined the last one travelling by Floo."

His friends exchanged an amused smile at the fact that Harry used the word "sister" whenever he could. The evening guests arrived quickly afterwards.

The first to arrive were Mr and Mrs Weasley. Molly had barely arrived when she threw herself at Harry and hugged him so hard he could barely breathe.

"Happy birthday, my dear. Are you alright? Do you have everything you need? Is everything going well with Severus? Are you eating enough? Are you sleeping well?"

Harry, who was used to this, made do with nodding after each of Mrs Weasley's questions and, after shaking Arthur's hand, he went to find his father in the kitchen.

"Father?"

"Mm?"

"The Weasleys have arrived."

"Ah. So, are you eating well? Am I traumatising you?" Snape asked sarcastically.

Harry smiled, embarrassed, and shrugged.

"We wouldn't have her any other way."

Snape smiled briefly before schooling his features back into an expressionless mask and going to greet the new arrivals.

Nymphadora soon arrived and knocked over the small sideboard while she was saying hello to Snape. To the adults' surprise, and under the mocking, smiling gaze of the children, he refrained from nasty comments and simply greeted his former student.

Finally, Remus arrived, accompanied by a large, muzzled black dog on a leash.

Snape came down with a cough while everyone laughed, making the dog whine. Remus, an amused smile on his lips, took off his muzzle and leash. As soon as he was free, the Animagus reverted back to his human form, looking annoyed.

"Was that really necessary?"

"It's the law," Remus retorted. "Do you want to get arrested by an Auror and taken to the pound for domestic animals that are considered dangerous for the magical community?"

Sirius grumbled something inaudible and hugged his godson.

"Is everything alright?" he whispered in Harry's ear.

Harry reassured him with a genuine smile. Dementia came to say hello to everyone, and Harry struggled not to laugh when he saw her greet Sirius as if they barely knew each other.

They sat at the table and, after only a few minutes, an argument erupted between Sirius and Dementia. Sirius was telling Dementia off for not taking care of Harry enough, while Dementia retorted that a criminal who was on the run really was an expert on this.

Hermione shook her head in indignation and leaned towards Harry. "Your sister is a cheater!"

"I know." Harry smiled, amused.

"No but really, what's all this with Sirius, she knows full well that Snape will get angry!"

It didn't fail. After Sirius made an acidic remark about the young woman's past love life, Severus dealt him one of his trademark cutting remarks in the coldest tone he could muster. There was a heavy silence. Dementia burst out laughing and held out her hand to Sirius, who shook it seriously.

"Thank you for your help, my dear colleague."

"You cheated," Snape protested. He was starting to understand that he had been manipulated.

"That'll teach you to make fun of the colours of my suits," retaliated Demi, smiling widely and holding her hand out.

Grumbling that he didn't remember ever having taught his daughter such values, Snape handed her thirty Galleons.

Harry was laughing fit to burst, but tried to hide it. He didn't want to attract the wrath of his father now that the bet no longer guaranteed that he would be in a good mood.

"Now, the presents!" Demi exclaimed.

Harry opened the many presents that appeared on the table. The Weasleys had given him presents from Honeydukes and Zonko's, Hermione had given him a magical camera, Hagrid had sent him a whistle that mimicked the cry of a unicorn, Remus gave him a pocket Sneakoscope, Sirius gave him the other half of a pair of mirrors that could communicate with one another, and Mr and Mrs Weasley gave him a large pile of homemade chocolate puddings.

Then Dementia handed him her present, which turned out to be a magical tent for three people. Harry was thrilled with this present – he had always wanted to go camping with Ron and Hermione one day, and to own his own tent.

Finally, to everyone's surprise, Snape handed Harry a parcel. In it were three books: _Curses and Counter-Curses. Bewitch your friends and befuddle your enemies with the latest revenges: Hair loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying, and much, much more_ by Professor Vindictus Viridian, a book which Harry had spotted in his first year but which he had never been allowed to buy, and _He Flew Like a Madman_ by Kennilworthy Whisp, a book about a star Quidditch player that he had never managed to find. Finally, the third book was a small photo album containing many Muggle and magical photos of Lily Evans.

His throat closing up, Harry thanked Snape.

"Your mother and I were very close friends," the wizard said sombrely. "As for this book, I would ask that you use it reasonably – don't make me regret confiding this in you."

Harry agreed, and Dementia burst into laughter at her father.

"And for God's sake don't lend it to your sister," Snape hastened to add, causing everyone to laugh.

It wasn't until late into the night that their guests left and Harry went to bed. He fell asleep clutching the album to his chest, feeling a thankfulness for Snape that he had never imagined he would ever feel.

oOo

Fifteen days had passed since Harry's birthday.

A supremely thankful Winky had arrived four days earlier, and Harry had finally been able to redecorate his rooms.

He had started by changing the colour of the walls in his bedroom to a pale blue and his carpet to a dark blue. He had hung white, transparent curtains around his bed and in the windows. On his wall, he had hung several Quidditch posters and photos of his parents.

In his sitting room, Harry had hung some photos of him and Sirius, and Ron and Hermione on his walls. He had left the original colours as they were, but had been unable to resist the urge to hang a Gryffindor banner above the fireplace, and to put a rug in his house colours over the sofa.

At the end of the afternoon, Snape came to see what Winky had done. He had looked satisfied with the new decorations and had admitted that he had been worried that the room would be turned into a Gryffindor den.

The list of supplies for the new school year had arrived the day before. Snape had grimaced and frowned when he read the title of the Defence Against the Dark Arts book, but refused to comment at all, instead simply saying to Harry that the Potions book was already in the manor library and that they would go and buy the rest during the week.

Dementia had gone to live with Sirius again even though her argument with her father was long forgotten. Harry suspected that she was being stubborn for the sake of it, since she had told her father on the day of the argument that she would not be back before they left for Hogwarts.

She had claimed to be living with a friend from the newspaper and that she didn't want to let her down, because she paid part of the rent and her friend's next housemate wouldn't arrive until September.

Snape seemed satisfied with this explanation. Or at least, he hadn't asked any questions.

oOo

On Monday 14th August, at quarter to 12, Harry was struggling not to sleep.

Just like he had for the last three days.

He was really beginning to feel the lack of sleep and could feel himself becoming more and more irritable. He had told off Winky, who had cried for the rest of the day, and had thrown out Hedwig, who had tried to get him to reply to a letter from Ron… and of course he had ended up arguing with Snape.

Sighing, Harry gingerly rubbed his stinging cheek. The argument had started over something stupid, he had replied slightly too sharply to his father, who had raised his voice. Instead of calming down and apologising, Harry had raised his voice too and become very insolent, telling Snape off for sticking his nose into his private life, for not understanding anything, and telling him that he was only good for being Dumbledore's lapdog.

The slap had taken him by surprise and knocked him onto the floor.

Teeth clenched, barely controlling his anger, Snape said only two words; " _Get out_!"

Which Harry had hurriedly done.

Then, in his room, he had increasingly anxiously waited for Snape to come up and join him. But he hadn't come. Harry was convinced he was going to be punished hard for his attitude. He wearily rubbed his face with his hand. He was so tired, but he couldn't sleep.

Yet he hadn't thought of it, or mostly hadn't thought of it, for the entire summer. Maybe it was the thought of the rapidly approaching new school year that had set it all off. He still couldn't bear to see Cedric's face, his eyes open wide and fixed in surprise, sprawled on the floor, and to hear that laugh, that mad laugh… It started as Scabbers' laugh and then turned into Voldemort's.

He didn't want to relive that over and over again – he didn't want to sleep.

But just like every night, he dozed off, unable to fight his tiredness. And just like every night, he jerked awake dripping with sweat, shaking from head to foot, just under two hours later.

He glanced at his clock: 02:10. The manor was quiet – even the house elves must have been asleep. Harry hesitated for a second before deciding to go down to the kitchen to drink a glass of orange juice. He didn't intend to let himself fall back asleep again.

He quickly and quietly went downstairs, as quiet as a mouse, a skill he had developed after years of living with the Dursleys. Once in the kitchen he swallowed a vitamin C tablet that he had found at the bottom of his trunk (thank God for Muggles!) with a large glass of orange juice, which he drank in one gulp. He quickly poured himself another one and drank his second glass more slowly.

"If you claim to be sleepwalking I won't be responsible for my actions."

Harry stiffened at the sound of the angry voice. Bloody hell, didn't he ever sleep?

"I thought I'd talked to you about this!" the voice snapped once more.

Harry didn't turn around. He didn't feel able to confront his father immediately.

"Very well, you asked for it!"

Before he was able to move a muscle, he felt something seize his collar and drag him out of the kitchen and into Snape's study. There, his father threw him against the desk and said in a harsh, authoritative tone, "Look at me!"

Harry didn't move. He started shivering just as much from the cold of being far from the kitchen fire as from fear. But he was paralysed and couldn't obey. His dream crashed over him like a wave. But he wasn't dreaming – he was sure that he wasn't dreaming.

Snape, who was beside himself with anger, spun him around so they were face to face. "Stop treating me like a Squib!"

He froze when he saw the expression on his son's face. Frowning, he put his unbuckled belt on the desk, determined to thrash the unbearable boy… who seemed more miserable and lost than unbearable at that particular moment. His hands on Harry's shoulders, he pushed him more gently towards the black leather armchair in his study, sat him down and, placing his hands on either side of his face to force him to look in his direction, he squatted in front of the teenager.

"Harry?"

Harry muttered something indistinct.

"What?"

"I'm so tired," the young man muttered.

"What's stopping you from sleeping?" the wizard asked.

"He's there. In my dreams. Every night. All the time."

Snape sighed and internally called himself every name under the sun. How could he not have understood Harry's changing attitude? His permanent irritability, his brusque reactions, his regular absences… everything pointed towards lack of sleep, and he hadn't realised.

He stood up and went to look for a potion in his cupboard. A potion that he used sometimes when spying for Dumbledore, when he had to make a complete report after having spent the entire night with the Death Eaters. He made Harry swallow the potion and waited for it to take effect.

After several minutes, he could see the teenager's pupils dilating slightly, his gaze becoming clearer. A gaze which soon fell on the leather belt on the table in front of him. Fear flashed through his eyes and he struggled to swallow.

Snape sighed and stood up. "Come, let's go into the living room. Do you want to?"

Harry obeyed silently, visibly tense. Snape made sure Harry saw him pick up his belt and put it back on, so that he knew there was nothing to be afraid of. He gestured for Harry to sit on a sofa in the living room and sat down in an armchair facing him.

"How long have you had these nightmares?" Snape asked calmly.

"Three or four days. As soon as I fall asleep, I go back to that graveyard."

"And what do you see there?"

"My parents… I mean…"

"Yes, your parents," finished Snape in a firm voice. "They will always be your parents, Harry, and you have a right to call them that."

Harry nodded slowly. Snape gestured for him to continue.

"And there's Cedric…"

Harry gulped, his throat suddenly tight. He was scared he wouldn't be able to continue if he said his enemy's name, but he suddenly felt that the potion calmed him, gave him the strength to continue.

"And there was Voldemort."

He saw Snape shudder and press his lips together unhappily but the wizard didn't say anything, and let him talk about his dream without interrupting.

"Voldemort was laughing… he was thanking me for bringing him back. And Cedric was lying there, on the ground, and he looked so surprised… and his spirit was floating above his body, and he looked so angry at me… and my parents looked so disappointed in me – like I wasn't worth the sacrifice they made for me…"

"Harry!" Snape interrupted, his tone sharper than he had intended.

Harry stopped and looked up at him with worried eyes. Snape cursed internally – he had wanted to stop the wave of guilt that was threatening to drown the boy, not scare him.

"Harry," he said, more gently this time.

"Sorry," mumbled the boy, "sorry Father, sorry – I'm sorry."

The teenager looked like he was about to cry. Or have a panic attack. Snape didn't even know whether he was apologising for getting up in the middle of the night, for the argument the day before or for what happened in the graveyard.

"Harry, listen to me. I know about the ritual Pettigrew used. The bones of the father, the flesh of the servant, the blood of the enemy… The ritual would have worked with or without you."

Harry looked up sharply.

"Yes, they chose you to be the enemy, but you're not Voldemort's only enemy – most wizarding families are against him. Not all of them will fight, but there were a lot to choose from. If it hadn't been you, it would have been someone else…"

"But he killed Cedric and I let him."

"You were 14, Harry. It's a miracle you're even alive – a Killing Curse moves very fast. A Shield Charm doesn't even effect the spell. The only way to avoid a Killing Curse is if you manage to avoid the ray. You warned Cedric – you told him to leave. But Cedric was 17, he was an adult, and he stayed. And he died. It's terrible, but it's not your fault. You fought against an experienced, powerful adult wizard and you came back. But you didn't abandon Cedric's body; you brought him back to his family. Few wizards would have done that."

"Yes, but-"

"Harry," Snape interrupted, "Professor Dippet died in 1956. Myrtle's death destroyed him, and he died a year later. Dumbledore became headmaster that year and Voldemort was 17. 17 in 1956. He's 56 now – that's 42 years more practice with magic than you. And even if you take away the 13 years where he survived in spirit form, that's still almost thirty years more practice than you. How were you supposed to stop him from coming back?"

"He hadn't come back yet."

"But Pettigrew was there, and under his rodent mannerisms he's also an experienced wizard. Harry, you couldn't have done anything, believe me. Do I normally lie to make people feel better?"

Harry shook his head.

"Listen," Snape sighed, "tomorrow I will put wards on your room. I'll come and wake you up when you have a nightmare, and I'll do that as long as I need to. Tonight, you'll take a Dreamless Sleep Potion."

Harry nodded and stood. Halfway towards the stairs he turned to Snape, who was following him.

"Father, about yesterday…"

"We'll just put it down to tiredness. Let's say you've used your joker."

He shoved a potion into Harry's hands and pushed him firmly towards his bedroom. Relieved to know that he wasn't going to be punished, Harry took off his glasses, sat on the bed and swallowed the potion. He let himself fall backwards, and was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi people,**

 **Here is a new chapter! I hope you enjoy! Hopefully, I could mail you the next one in 3 weeks.**

 **Good reading!**

* * *

A yell echoed through the manor at the same time as a loud alarm went off in the master bedroom.

"I heard," the occupant growled, cutting the alarm off with a swift gesture.

He got up and quickly made his way to Harry's room for the fifth time that week. The boy struggled violently in his bed, his body arched at an impossible angle. Just like the previous times, Severus put his hands on the teenager's shoulders and firmly held him down. At the same time, he called the boy's name in a sharp voice.

Harry's eyes flew open and he stiffened immediately. _Good_ , Snape said to himself, _step 1, wake up Harry, is complete_. Now he had to help him find his way back to reality because, although he had woken up, he was still within the grips of his nightmare.

"Harry, look at me!"

In response, Harry suddenly arched his back, trying to escape the professor's firm grip. Snape sighed, frustrated. If he thought that slapping the boy would calm him down immediately, he would definitely have done it already. But he was sure that the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Had-Since-Never-Been-Like-Everyone-Else would react badly to it. So he continued to talk to Harry calmly, until his voice forced its way into the boy's befuddled mind.

"Harry! It's me! Wake up, look at me."

After what seemed like a lifetime but was really a couple of minutes, Harry shuddered and his green eyes met his.

"Where…"

"In your room," Snape replied, still firm but also calm. "You're safe."

Harry tried to get up and Snape helped him sit up. The teenager looked around, visibly relieved, before growing sombre.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking anxious.

"And what exactly are you sorry for this time?" Snape asked, tone ironic.

"For waking you up," Harry replied, looking down at the bed.

The boy was definitely oblivious to Snape's sense of humour. "Merlin, Harry," the Potions Master sighed.

"Father!" the teenager said hastily. "For waking you up, Father."

"Stop!" exclaimed Severus, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders, feeling like shaking him to get what he was going to say into his thick skull.

Harry leaned back slightly so that he could look at him questioningly.

"Stop apologising," Severus explained. "You've done nothing wrong."

"I woke you up," Harry said stubbornly.

"I might start thinking that you miss being punished," Snape said, amused.

"That I… what?"

"It's almost like you're trying to convince me to punish you. If that's all it takes to make you happy…"

Harry swallowed with difficulty. Was Snape serious? He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut – he had been about to apologise again!

Severus sighed. "Seriously, Harry, I would prefer to get up a hundred times rather than see you sleep deprived or drugged up on Dreamless Sleep. The nightmares will get less frequent and then go away. You just need a bit of time. It's no trouble to come as many times as needed, and it doesn't make me angry with you, I promise. Try to get back to sleep; it's almost 6 hours until breakfast."

Harry obeyed without arguing. He was exhausted. Every time he had a nightmare, he felt like he had run a mile or been hit with the Cruciatus Curse. He had never told anyone about that, not even Dumbledore. Or Sirius. Or Dementia. Should he tell Snape? After all, as a former Death Eater, he must have been hit with the Cruciatus Curse a few times!

He let himself sink back into his pillows and fell asleep immediately.

Snape tousled his hair absentmindedly, and stopped as soon as he realised what he was doing. He drew back hastily, thanking Merlin that Dementia wasn't there to see him – he would have had to listen to her sarcastic comments on affection for the rest of the year.

He reset the alarms around Harry and went back to his own room, hoping that he would be able to get a few more hours' sleep.

oOo

Harry opened his eyes, gripped by the convincing feeling that he was in immediate danger. For a moment, he was disoriented. Had a new dream about Voldemort brutally jerked him from sleep?

No… He hadn't had that dream for a few nights now.

Just like his father had promised, after one tough week the nightmares had become more infrequent and then gone away entirely.

For a solid week, his father had come into his bedroom every night, sometimes several times a night, to wake him up, calm him down, reassure him and help him fall back asleep. Then he only had to come three or four times the following week, twice in the third week, and not at all this week.

Harry realised that he had thought of Snape as "his father" for the first time. He had of course called him that since being adopted, but he had never called him that naturally before. Things really had changed between them after only two months…

He heard a muffled noise and jumped.

"Harry!"

Uh oh – the master of the house sounded annoyed. Harry got out of bed immediately, not wanting to antagonise the Potions Master further. In his haste, he banged into his trunk, which was in the middle of his living room. The pain cheered him up – he was going back today! And the feeling of immediate danger hanging over his head was Dementia, who was going to drive him to the station while their father apparated directly to Hogwarts.

"Bloody hell," he moaned, "I'm going to miss the train. Every time!"

He went downstairs towards the hall, limping slightly. Snape was waiting for him near the living room door. The professor raised a questioning eyebrow when he saw how the boy was walking.

"I had a fight with a trunk. It won." Snape sneered and Harry argued, not at all put off by it. "The harmful power of trunks is greatly underestimated by most people! They need to be added to the Defence Against the Dark Arts syllabus!"

The Potions Master smiled, shaking his head at Harry's dishonesty. He was definitely starting to rub off on the boy; Minerva should be happy. Without telling his son what he was thinking, he simply nodded to the upper floor and asked, "Have you talked to Winky?"

"What about?"

"About what she will do when you're at Hogwarts," Snape sighed. "I asked you to decide yourself; either she stays here with Kookie, or she comes to Hogwarts to help in the kitchen."

"Where are Baker and Alima going?" Harry asked.

"Baker will stay with me, obviously. I don't know about Alima – she will probably come to Hogwarts with Demi. But unlike your sister and myself, you cannot ask Winky to do anything for you when you're at Hogwarts – there will be no favouritism."

"I know," Harry protested. "But won't Kookie be bored?"

"She's used to it and I think she's eager for us to leave the house so she can have a bit of peace!"

"Then I think it's better to let Winky come to Hogwarts – I'm worried she'll think I don't want her anymore if I leave her here. I'll explain to her that she can come and see me from time to time but that I'm not allowed to ask her for anything when we're at Hogwarts."

"Good. Go and explain all of that to her and meet me in my study. I need to talk to you."

"Yes, Father."

Feeling a bit worried, although he would never have admitted to it, Harry called Winky. What did Snape want to tell him? Formal discussions with him were never very nice and could even become painful. The young man grimaced at the memory of being punished twice. He quickly explained the situation to the small elf and asked her anyway whether she wanted to stay with Kookie, reassuring her that it would be no trouble for him.

Winky blushed to the tips of her ears at the fact that her young master was giving her the honour of choosing, then admitted to Harry that she was eager to return to Hogwarts to see all those who had neglected her, treating her like a lost elf who would never find another family because she had been fired. She was eager to have her small revenge!

Harry couldn't help but laugh at Winky's boundless enthusiasm and promised her that he would come into the kitchens himself to give her an order if would help give her the moment of glory she wanted. Then he asked her to finish packing and to go and find Demi to ask her on his behalf not to be late.

Then, drawing on all his courage, he walked to his father's study. He briefly hesitated in front of the heavy wooden door and then, sighing, knocked. Snape's voice, mercifully calm and with no hint of anger or sarcasm, answered.

"Come in, Harry."

Wordlessly, Harry sat in the armchair facing his father, repeating an inner mantra; _I haven't done anything wrong, I haven't done anything wrong…_

Severus looked up at him and couldn't help but smile in amusement at how miserable and scared his son looked. "Have you done something I don't know about?"

Harry jumped slightly and shook his head quickly.

"Good," continued Severus. "So relax - I didn't ask you to come in here to punish you or argue with you."

Harry visibly and immediately relaxed.

"I asked you here," Snape continued, "to talk to you about the coming year. You're now a professor's son, and as such you must change your attitude about certain things."

Harry scowled but didn't argue.

"I'm not one for corporal punishment, but you should know that I will not hesitate to resort to it if need be."

The young man shuddered but didn't look away, and nodded his head curtly to show that he had understood. What a typical, Gryffindor thing to do!

"Good," Snape continued. "Regarding marks, I demand – and I really must insist on this – I demand a minimum of E. I can tolerate lower marks in Divination," he said with disdain, "but only in Divination. Any lower mark in another subject will guarantee you hours of supervised study."

Harry nodded hesitantly; he had paled noticeably. Snape stood up from his armchair and leaned on his desk, facing Harry.

"Harry, you are completely capable of achieving these marks. Even in Potions. If you don't understand something, do not hesitate to come and see me. If you have a bad mark after a difficult night or because you are ill, I will understand. I have set a rule for you, but there is room for exception. And now, that being said, let's talk about your well-developed tendency to have a very loose understanding of the word 'curfew'. I don't want to catch you wandering the corridors at night anymore, or Merlin knows you'll have a sore hand from writing so many lines."

Harry grimaced but again refrained from commenting. Firstly, it would have probably done no good and, secondly, Snape was evil enough to give him a preview of these punishments as soon as they arrived at Hogwarts, just on principle.

"Two more things that will get you punished severely are your outside escapades, whether in the Forbidden Forest, in the grounds or outside Hogwarts, as well as your lack of respect for adults. The same goes for any minor fight."

"It's Malfoy who attacks first most of the time," Harry protested, indignant. "I'm only defending myself!"

"If you use a Shield Charm, I will accept it. But if you use the slightest offensive charm, including expelliarmus, you can be sure you won't escape your punishment. I will punish you in private, without letting your classmates know what will happen. But if you try to escape your punishment, I will make it twice as bad and it will happen in the Gryffindor common room. Is that perfectly clear?"

"Yes Father," Harry said in a raspy voice.

"Perfect. I will apparate to Hogwarts. I have to go to a staff meeting before the students arrive. Dementia will drive you to the train and come with you. If you miss it due to your sister's abysmal time keeping skills, send me an owl. And don't apparate anywhere!"

"Ok, Father," Harry replied absently.

It wasn't that the young man wasn't listening to Snape, but rather that he couldn't hide his surprise. Dementia? Taking the train? Wasn't she meant to just drive him to the station?

"She's going to work in the library with Madam Pince while writing her thesis," Snape said, answering Harry's unvoiced question.

Harry couldn't help but smile widely. Dementia at Hogwarts… Suddenly the idea of spending a school year in Snape's presence felt less terrifying. Of course, he still didn't know how the students and professors would react, and that worried him slightly. Also, he still hadn't asked his father what he was meant to call him during lessons. He was already imagining their expressions and sniggering if he called his father Professor and got himself told off in public.

Maybe Hermione was right; it didn't do any harm to ask and there was no reason why Professor Snape would get angry. In theory, at least…

He watched as his father stood and got his heavy black cloak out of the cupboard. He watched him put it on and walk towards the door of the study. He suddenly realised that Snape was about to leave, and that if he didn't ask his question now, he didn't really know when he would be able to ask him.

He stood and ran after Snape, catching up with him at the front door.

"Father! Wait!"

"Yes?" Snape asked, his hand resting on the door handle.

"I wanted to ask you… er… I mean…" stammered Harry, not knowing how to ask the question without sounding insolent.

"What, Harry? If there is something worrying you just spit it out, I won't be offended at how you say it," Snape promised.

"Ok," sighed Harry, gathering his courage, "what should I call you? In class, I mean."

"Ah."

Snape closed the door that he had opened and sat on the stairs, gesturing for Harry to join him. "Well," he said once Harry had sat next to him, "personally, I would feel ridiculous calling you Mr Potter like before. I will use your first name and talk to you like I would outside of school. As for you, well, I think it's up to you. Would you feel more comfortable calling me professor, or calling me father? Try both and make a decision. But your Gryffindor classmates already know about your adoption and have, for the most part, taken it well, although they didn't see me at your birthday party. As for the other students… I cannot predict their reactions. But you can address me as before, Harry, or call me father, I will not get angry. Do you feel better now?"

Harry nodded.

"In that case, I will go. Get ready to leave – it seems your sister will be arriving at the last minute! See you later."

"See you later, Father."

After his father left, Harry called Winky and asked her if she had seen Dementia. The tiny elf assured him that Dementia had promised to be on time and that 'Mister Uncle of Master Harry' had promised to send her to Snape Manor in time.

Feeling half-reassured, Harry thanked her – which made Winky blush to the tips of her ears again – and asked her to bring his things into the hall. Then he bribed Kookie, who was in the kitchen, to give him a late breakfast, which the elf, who already had Snape's permission to do it, hurriedly made.

At 10:30 Dementia, who was hopping mad, arrived by Floo. Sirius had shoved her unceremoniously into the fireplace and shouted the destination himself. Harry didn't even try to hide his smirk and explained to her that no, it wasn't that they didn't trust her, but that – as she had to admit – her idea of time passing wasn't exactly the same as the rest of the world. Dementia muttered something unintelligible, sat down to drink some herbal tea and opened a magazine. Harry immediately closed the magazine and reminded her that she had plenty of time to read on the train.

After Harry had had a panic attack, they apparated into the train station 10 minutes before the train left. The leaving whistle blew at the exact same moment as Harry, who had never come so close to having a heart attack, climbed into the carriage after the luggage and Dementia.

It only took a few minutes to find the compartment his friends had crammed themselves into.

"Harry!" cried Hermione, relieved. "I was so worried! You almost missed the train!"

"And why do you think that happened," Harry grumbled, gesturing towards his sister.

Dementia pulled a very adult face and Hermione giggled. Then she and Ron who, to Harry's surprise was also a prefect, left to go to the prefect meeting in another compartment, promising to return as quickly as they could. Dementia left just as quickly, leaving him alone with Luna and Neville.

"So," Neville asked, looking embarrassed, "how's it going with Professor Snape? I was shocked he wasn't yelling at us during your birthday party."

"Dementia basically locked him in his lab," Harry said, smiling.

"And he's not too… harsh with you?" asked Dean, who had just come in and remembered when Harry had run away.

"No, it's fine. It's actually better – I wouldn't say it's great every day but… it feels more like having a strict father than just being looked after by the worst professor in Hogwarts who hates me."

"It's already that," his classmate murmured.

"And," Neville interrupted, "what's Dementia doing on the train?"

Harry smiled mysteriously and silenced his friends by saying that Snape had promised he would punish him severely if he let the cat out of the bag. That wasn't completely true; Snape hadn't told him not to do anything, just not to spread it throughout the train that Dementia Snape was the new library assistant.

He started a game of Exploding Snap with Dean, while Neville fussed over his plant and Luna once again read her copy of _The Quibbler_ upside down.

He was just losing the third round when Ron and Hermione came back, furious, and told them that Malfoy and Parkinson were Slytherin prefects. This didn't really surprise Harry and, in fact, he had expected it; although the two Slytherins were horrible to those who they considered beneath them, they were still very good students. Pansy, like Hermione, didn't really draw the professors' attention for her behaviour, and Malfoy was the second best student in their year – behind Hermione, of course. In his opinion, it made sense for both of them to be made prefects.

Ron started a game of chess with Dean, the only Gryffindor capable of holding his own against him in the game, and Harry made himself comfortable while he listened to Hermione and Luna launch into a debate about the existence of crumple-horned snorkacks.

Harry looked at the time and sighed; it was a long time until they would arrive, and he was hungry. And, for the first time since he had started at Hogwarts, he didn't have any galleons. All of his costs were covered by Snape and he hadn't had the chance to go to Gringotts.

"I'm going to go find Dementia," he said, standing up.

"Why?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Because I'm hungry, the food cart is coming round in half an hour, and she has the galleons."

He left the compartment, leaving them to smile at his sulkiness. He looked in compartment after compartment and was about to give up, wondering if Demi had apparated off the train ('you can't apparate on the Hogwarts Express,' Hermione would have said emphatically) when, walking in front of a compartment with drawn curtains, he heard his sister's voice.

He was about to walk in without knocking when he heard the voice that responded to Dementia's joke – Malfoy! He hesitated for a second, then tapped sharply on the window twice.

"Come in," Draco's voice said.

He opened the door and soon found himself being stared at by Malfoy, Pansy, Goyle, Crabbe and Zabini.

"Well, Potter, are you lost?"

Aware that his adoption still wasn't widely known, Harry shot his enemy a cold look and turned towards his sister.

"Can you lend me 5 galleons? The food cart is coming soon and I haven't been to Gringotts."

Dementia took a full money bag out of her handbag and threw it to him. "I went – take it, it's yours."

"Thanks. Sorry but the air in here is stifling…"

Before the young woman or one of the Slytherins could say anything in reply, he closed the door and started walking back to his own compartment. He hadn't made it three steps when he heard the door open quite loudly. He span around and found himself face to face with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who were staring at him menacingly.

"So, Saint Potter, are we resorting to asking for charity now?"

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," Harry replied, teeth clenched.

Malfoy gestured to his goons, telling them not to move, and walked towards Harry, stopping very close to him. He hissed, "I don't know where you met Demi but I advise you to forget she exists. She's better than you! She's much too good to dirty herself talking to a friend of mudbloods and blood traitors!"

Harry shoved Malfoy backwards, and he would have fallen if his two friends hadn't been standing right behind him and caught him at the last moment. Then, forgetting Snape's warnings and not for a second thinking of the consequences, he drew his wand and pointed it at the Slytherin, who was hurriedly doing the same.

Just as they were getting ready to cast Merlin knew what spells, the compartment door opened again and an enraged Dementia stormed out.

"Draco Malfoy, what do you think you're doing? Did you really just leave me alone with that idiot Parkinson and that obsessed Zabini to go muck about in the corridor? It's not a playground! Come on, everyone back in the compartment!"

The two boys hesitated but neither moved.

"Come on!" Dementia ordered, frowning. "Don't make me complain to Professor Snape as soon as we get to Hogwarts!"

Draco had turned towards Dementia and therefore didn't see Harry pale dramatically. He managed to regain control of himself before the Slytherin turned back to him.

"Yes," he said in his drawling voice. "You're right, Dementia, he's not worth it."

Then, he put his arm around the young woman's waist and steered her towards their compartment, followed by the two gorillas.

"I can't believe you abandoned me like that without saying anything! It's not like you were raised by Muggles, were you? You just wait, I'm going to send an owl to your father!"

"But Demi, I…"

But the sound of the door closing drowned out the rest of Malfoy's sentence. Harry sucked in a breath to calm himself down and turned around, angrily making his way back to his friends.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Ron asked, seeing him slam the door open.

"Dementia is at the back of the train."

"So?"

"With Malfoy and his gang!"

"What?" Ron panicked. "Is she thick?"

"Well," Hermione said reasonably, "Snape is the head of Slytherin and friends with Malfoy's parents, so he must have met her already. And don't you think Dementia is perfectly capable of defending herself against teenagers?"

"Obviously," growled Harry, "that's not the problem."

Looking at his stubborn expression, Hermione wondered whether he would say what the problem was. She suspected that Harry was simply jealous. He had had Dementia to himself once, then she had gone to live with Sirius – exactly where he had wanted to live – while he had to stay with Snape, and now he was realising he had to share his sister.

Hermione shook her head slightly but refrained from commenting. She had the feeling that Harry would react badly to her analysis of the situation. The rest of the journey was dominated by Harry's stubborn silence, and Harry himself only moved twice; once to buy some sweets and once to put on his school robes.

When the train came to a halt, he made his way towards a coach and was about to climb into it when a hand pulled him backwards, almost making him fall.

"Come on," Dementia cried to the group, "we'll take the next one! Sorry if I hurt you," she added to Harry, looking about as sorry as a Death Eater who had squashed a ladybird.*

Harry shot her a look worthy of Snape, which didn't seem to affect her as much as the original version, and got into an empty coach.

"Alright, we have 15 minutes until we get to the castle, spill it – what's wrong?"

"Nothing," growled Harry.

"You look like Dad when you do that," she hissed, causing the young man to cough indignantly, still refusing to answer her.

Dementia rolled her eyes, exasperated. Good grief, didn't this boy _ever_ think before he acted? "Can you imagine what Dad's reaction would have been if you'd gotten into a fight before you even arrived at Hogwarts? Do you know what he'll do if he hears people talking about the argument, if he finds out that you got your wand out in the middle of the corridor?"

Harry shuddered but remained stubbornly silent. Dementia sighed; she knew perfectly well what was bothering Harry.

"You're more important than him, you know!"

"What?"

"Malfoy," explained Demi. "I've known him since he was a little boy – Dad is his dad's friend. I didn't see him much, but enough for him to come and say hello when he sees me. But you're more important than him. He's just an acquaintance, you're my brother. Harry, Dad adopted you, and it's final. That means I won't disappear just like that, even if you end up really wanting me to!"

Harry smiled, but couldn't help reminding her that that was exactly what she had done that summer; she had disappeared.

"I know," sighed Dementia, actually looking sorry this time. "I shouldn't have left knowing how tense things were between you and Dad. But he really annoyed me. No… actually, I was already annoyed and he made things worse."

"Why did you argue?"

"Oh," Dementia replied, waving her hand, "nothing important."

The coach slowed down and stopped in front of the castle. Harry didn't press her. Dementia wouldn't tell him anything. He went back to his friends while she walked over to Filch, who quickly led her to the Great Hall where all the professors had gathered. All except for Minerva McGonagall who, like every year, was greeting the new children.

Harry joined his friends at the Gryffindor table just in time for the start of the sorting ceremony. He noticed that the majority of students were looking curiously at the professors' table where, apart from Dementia, there was another new face. She was a tiny witch, puffed up like a bullfrog, dressed in a hot pink material that must have been her robes.

"I've seen Hermione dressed in pink before, but it looked nothing like that," Ron whispered to Harry.

"Same for Demi."

The two boys turned their attention to Dumbledore, who had stood.

"I hope he's not going to announce that Snape has adopted you," Hermione murmured.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because I want to see Malfoy's face the next time he insults your father…"

The three friends burst out laughing. Harry bit his lip to stop himself when he saw the disapproving look Snape was giving him.

Dumbledore smiled benevolently and began his start of year speech. "My dear children, a new year begins, and this year we are welcoming two new staff members. Firstly Madam Dementia Snape-Johnson who, while writing her thesis on magical psychology, will be assisting our dear Madam Pince in the library. You can go to her for any help you may need for finding books. I hope that you will give her a warm welcome."

Dementia stood and gave the crowd of students a distracted smile. The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables clapped politely but half-heartedly. The Slytherin table, who hadn't failed to notice the young woman's surname, clapped loudly, followed by a section of the Gryffindor table – that is, those who knew how Dementia and Harry were linked. There were even a few fervent claps from the young witches who read Dementia's magazine.

Dumbledore let the applause continue for several moments before raising his hand for silence.

"And I would also ask that you give a warm welcome to Mrs Dolores Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, who has given us the honour of accepting the Defence Against the Dark Arts position this year."

This time, all tables only clapped politely. Nobody knew anything about this Mrs Umbridge, and her appointment to the Defence position only mildly interested the students. After all, didn't they have a new professor every year?

However, Hermione noticed that Dumbledore's eyes had lost their normally ever-present sparkle and that Minerva McGonagall was looking at her new colleague with a rather tight-lipped expression.

"Before you tuck into the feast, I must inform our new students, and remind certain older students-"

Harry felt Snape, Dementia, McGonagall and Dumbledore looking at him.

"-that the Forbidden Forest is, as its name suggests, forbidden, and that the list of forbidden objects can be found in Mr Filch's office. Moreover, I-"

" _Hem hem._ "

Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, clearly looking for the source of the noise that had interrupted him. He suddenly realised that the noise came from his Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, who was asking to be allowed to speak. Always the gentleman, he stopped his speech and stepped back, allowing the tiny witch to speak.

"Hello children."

The "children" looked at each other silently, smirking. Umbridge sniffed, looking annoyed.

"I will not tolerate a single gap in the education provided within these walls. You are the pride of the wizarding community, our future, and you owe it to yourselves to be polite in every situation."

She watched the students with a strict expression, and the students, who suspected she wouldn't move unless they gave her the satisfaction, mumbled a listless 'hello'. She appeared to be satisfied by that.

"My dear children," she said in an exasperating, shrill, girlish voice that made even Dementia wince, "we are living through a period that some… _storytellers…_ would like to see descend into chaos. You should not let yourselves be frightened by pathological, attention-seeking liars."

Harry didn't need to look up to know that half the school was staring at him.

"You should not hesitate to come and find me if someone tries to scare you," continued the toad disguised as a marshmallow. "I'm here to help you. And, as the Minister wishes, I am also here to put this marvellous school in order. Lessons should be given to you with the same amount of attention that we would use for looking after cats. It is only in this way that you will be able to achieve complete perfection. Progress is an advantage, but progress with the sole purpose of changing things without knowing if these changes are beneficial is not real progress. Together we will make Hogwarts great again, but I cannot do anything without your help!"

Umbridge gave a rippling laugh and sat back down.

Dumbledore stood up again and said, with forced cheerfulness, "Tuck in!"

The plates immediately appeared on the tables. Harry helped himself absent-mindedly and caught Hermione's eye – she looked as sombre as Snape did on his bad days.

"What?" he asked.

"Oh nothing," she replied. "The new professor just explained to us that she is working for the Minister, that she intends to control Hogwarts and that every one of us must denounce anyone who has the courage to say You-Know-Who is back. Oh, and I almost forgot: you are of course a liar who will stop at nothing to profit from the tragic accident that cost Cedric Diggory his life so that you can get attention!"

Harry stared at her wide-eyed, speechless. Ron swallowed and looked at Hermione, shocked.

"Hermione! How do you do that? No one else understood that!"

"Because I listen to what the words mean when they're put together, and not just to their sounds," Hermione replied drily, and then tucked into her meal.

Half an hour later Hermione, dragging a grumpy Ron behind her, gathered the first years to show them the way to the Gryffindor common room. Harry hesitated for a moment, then, feeling his father's severe gaze boring into his back, he followed, hot on their heels.

Just before he left the room, he turned towards the professors' table to try and catch Dementia's reassuring eye. He noticed that the new Defence professor was staring at him, gaze openly hostile, and that Snape's eyes were full of warnings. He sighed and, exchanging a quick smile with his sister, he left the Great Hall.

Several minutes later, sitting comfortably with his friends in front of the common room fireplace, Harry savoured the fact that he was finally back at Hogwarts. But he had to admit that the start of this year didn't give him the same feeling of freedom as in previous years. In fact, while all of his friends knew that at some point or other they would have to talk to their parents about how they were getting on, he was the only one who had to face his father within the walls of the castle itself. He couldn't hide any reprimand, any bad mark, any slip in his behaviour from him.

Yes… this year was going to be very different from the others.

oOo

*A crazy expression from the first chapter of the excellent story by Arcadiane, which can be found in khalya's favourites.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Hello people,**_

 _ **Ok, I'm late but it's not really my fault: I had problems connecting and a big computer problem. And I'm not suicidal to the point of updating you from the desktop computer!**_

 _ **I hope you enjoy this chapter and a big thank you to les Varioufs for the translation that I cannot reread with him because I don't read English well enough to be of any use!**_

 _ **Good reading!**_

* * *

"Harry, you're cheating," Hermione protested, "there's already been an ace of clubs."

"We're playing with two decks," the young man replied.

"And I have the second one in my hand!"

"Ok, ok let's not count this round," grumbled Harry, picking up all the cards as Ron stared at him mockingly.

He redistributed the deck, sighing melodramatically and muttering about the total lack of trust the young witch had in him. A totally justified lack of trust, of course, but that wasn't the point. He grimaced as he looked at his hand, but Hermione's suspicious gaze dissuaded him from magically altering the value of his cards.

The curfew had come into effect twenty minutes ago but, since the first of September was a Friday this year, they didn't have any lessons the next day and therefore didn't need to go to bed early.

With this in mind, they had started a game of crazy eights after explaining the rules to Ron, who didn't know this Muggle game. Hermione had also bought two board games: the magical version of monopoly and a game of her own making; designed for their NEWTs, it was like trivial pursuit, with the questions being on herbology, potions, transfiguration, spells, etc… and Quidditch, of course. And each year the players could add a deck of cards corresponding to their year of study. Hermione hoped to help the boys revise in a fun way using this game.

For the moment, the young witch felt herself becoming increasingly angry when she saw the ace of diamonds for the third time, courtesy of Ron. She couldn't decide between making the boys happy by pretending not to notice anything, or having an enormous, angry fit before ditching them and going to read in the dormitory.

Just as Hermione was about to let herself be tempted by the second option, she heard sharp knocking on the Fat Lady's portrait. Dean Thomas, who was walking in front of it, automatically opened the door and recoiled.

"Thank you Mr Thomas."

Professor Snape walked into the common room and scanned the room. Harry, who had paled dramatically at the sound of Snape's voice, froze in his armchair, thinking that if he didn't move perhaps he wouldn't see him. While this technique worked well against a blast-ended skrewt, it was totally useless against his father.

"Harry, follow me, I would like to talk to you."

The sentence, although it was perfectly polite and said calmly, had a cooling effect on the common room. Snape was obviously angry. No one missed his expression and all of them were worried for Harry. Harry stood slowly, aware of the eyes on him but knowing that he must under no circumstances annoy his father.

Seeing that the young man was following him closely, Snape turned on his heel and stalked from the Gryffindor common room. Harry sped up so that he didn't fall behind Snape's fast pace, praying that the man wouldn't take him to the dungeons.

After a few hundred metres, the professor opened one of the disused classrooms with a flick of his wand and walked in, gesturing for Harry to follow him. He slammed the door behind him, locked it magically and cast a _muffliato_ , making the young wizard tremble.

Then he leaned nonchalantly against a desk and crossed his arms. "Well?"

"Well what, Father?" Harry asked quietly, not knowing how else to respond and hoping not to set off an explosion of anger.

"Well, what part of being forbidden to fight did you not understand? What part of 'you will be severely punished' did you miss?"

Ah, he had found out about the train. Who had told him? Malfoy? No. He wouldn't have boasted about getting his wand out in the middle of the Hogwarts Express. Dementia? She wouldn't have betrayed him, knowing what it would mean for him… After all there had been witnesses from every year, who had perhaps talked about it among themselves… And his father tended to eavesdrop.

"I'm waiting," hissed Snape and Harry jumped, suddenly realising that he hadn't answered the question.

"It was…"

He stopped suddenly. It was his fault – that's what he was about to say. But that wouldn't be an excuse in Snape's opinion, just a confession. And then if his father asked him about it more, he would find out that he had taken his wand out first. Malfoy hadn't threatened him. He had just insulted him. Again. The more he replayed the scene in his head the more he thought he would be sleeping on his front tonight, if he slept at all.

"Harry!" snapped Snape – he was starting to lose patience.

"We didn't fight," the young man protested weakly as a last resort. "We did get out our wands – that's true – but we didn't fight."

"And Malfoy just fell over all by himself on the train?"

"He didn't fall over, his gormless friends caught…" Harry protested, falling silent quickly when he realised he had fallen into the trap like a first year.

Snape raised a mocking eyebrow at Harry's crestfallen expression. He grabbed a chair and sat in it.

"Right. You have five minutes."

"What?" Harry asked.

"You have five minutes to convince me that I shouldn't take off my belt and make it so that this conversation stays etched onto your back, instead of just into your memory, for a whole week."

Harry swallowed hard. He opened his mouth several times but no words came out.

"Very eloquent," Snape commented coldly. "Three minutes."

Harry felt panic beginning to take over. His explanations wouldn't convince Snape and he knew it. How could he explain to him how he felt when Malfoy had stopped him from approaching Dementia? When he had put him down yet again?

"Time's up!" hissed Snape, standing up and grabbing his belt.

"No," moaned Harry, retreating towards the door. "No, please, I'm sorry."

"Oh you will be, I promise."

"Please… Professor… Father…"

"So tell me, for Salazar's sake! Tell me what happened! Do you really think you have anything to lose?"

"I don't know what happened!" Harry cried, losing his cool. "I don't know anything! I just wanted Dementia to give me some money so I could buy something to eat. It wouldn't have happened if I had been able to go to Gringotts to take out some gold!"

"What did Malfoy say to you?" asked Snape, letting the mention of Gringotts slide.

"Nothing… nothing that justified me disobeying you, I know," Harry replied, disheartened.

Snape sighed. He didn't really want to punish Harry so soon after arriving at Hogwarts and, after the turbulent summer that they had spent together, he hadn't thought that the teenager would have disobeyed him in such a way without good reason. According to what he had heard in the Slytherin common room, the two boys hadn't fought. They had drawn their wands but Dementia had intervened. The pest had been careful not to tell him about that part of the journey.

He had interrogated Malfoy, who unsurprisingly had told him that Potter had thrown himself at him like a scorned hippogriff for no reason. He had dropped the matter and warned the young prefect that he would not tolerate this type of behaviour at Hogwarts.

He wasn't stupid. Malfoy claiming that it was for "no reason" left him more than confused, and he wanted Harry's version of events.

He had tried to find out more from Dementia but the young woman had used the 'Fifth Amendment' excuse and had disappeared before he could retort that they weren't Americans, they weren't Muggles, and the Fifth Amendment couldn't be used in this case.

He sat back down and held out a hand to his son. "Harry, come here."

The young wizard hesitated for a moment, then he came closer slowly, tensely, ready to jump back nimbly if there was a threat. With a simple wave of his wand, Snape summoned another chair.

"Sit down. Please."

Pale as a ghost, the teenager obeyed.

"Tell me what Malfoy said to you. I think I have proven to you over the last few weeks that I'm not going to physically punish you wildly and without listening to your side. You still have the chance to avoid it Harry, so take it."

Harry sighed and mumbled something unintelligible.

"What?" Snape asked. "I know I have good hearing but I must admit that I didn't understand any of your mumbling."

"He told me I wasn't allowed to talk to Dementia."

"Now we're getting somewhere," Snape said, raising an eyebrow.

"He told me I was worthless, that I had to ask for charity and that Dementia wouldn't resort to mixing with a friend of mudbloods."

"I see. I don't think that's a good enough excuse, Harry. It's not the first time Draco has insulted you…"

Harry tensed and bowed his head, unable to meet his father's gaze.

"However, I have let Draco's behaviour slide and it would be unfair if I didn't do the same for you, knowing that you were provoked. After all, you didn't cast any spells, although I think only Dementia intervening stopped you and you weren't inside the castle. But this cannot happen again, Harry. I'm not joking. Next time, I won't even ask you for an explanation, do you understand?"

The teenager nodded nervously. Snape stood up, dusted off his robes with a swish of his wand, unlocked the door and then cancelled the silencing charm.

"Come, I will take you back to your common room."

Neither of them spoke on the way back. Once they reached the door, Harry muttered the password and the Fat Lady opened the door without saying a word, the professor's presence making her stay quiet. Snape leaned through the doorway and grabbed Harry's arm.

"If Malfoy starts to annoy you too much, you shouldn't hesitate to tell me."

"I'm not a snitch!"

"What?"

"Er… I mean I don't tell on people…"

"You complained to Dementia every time I looked at you strangely," Snape exclaimed, indignant.

"That's not the same," grumbled the young man.

"Alright, fine, deal with it yourself! But not by fighting, is that clear?"

"Yes," Harry snapped moodily.

"Yes what?" scolded Snape, raising his voice slightly.

"Yes, Professor," the teenager replied innocently – he hadn't forgotten the conversation they had had about names before leaving the manor.

Snape, who also remembered it perfectly, rolled his eyes. He'd backed himself into a corner and couldn't say anything about it. He nodded curtly and turned on his heel, finally letting the Fat Lady close the portrait behind him.

Hermione quickly approached Harry, and the conversations in the common room began to die out.

"Are you ok, Harry?"

Harry nodded in the direction of his classmates and led Hermione and Ron into his dormitory, where Neville and Dean were already sitting.

"Harry, is everything alright?" Dean asked.

"Yes," the young wizard replied, smiling. "I got a mega-long morality lesson and was threatened with being locked up and the key thrown away if I did anything wrong again… but everything is fine."

"Professor Snape didn't do anything to you?" Neville asked, incredulous.

"I swear he didn't. He isn't stupid – he knows that Malfoy wasn't completely innocent."

"Since when does that normally annoy him?" muttered Ron.

"It's different now, Ron," Hermione explained. "Harry is his son, so he'll come before Malfoy. Or at least, they'll be equally important," she corrected herself, seeing the openly sceptical looks on her classmates' faces, Harry included.

"And imagine Dementia's reaction if Harry had been punished and Malfoy hadn't…" snickered Ron.

Harry smiled at the memory of how his sister had threatened Malfoy on the train. He hoped that it hadn't been an empty threat and that the young woman was really going to write to Malfoy's father to complain about his behaviour.

As a group, the five students decided not to go back down into the common room, so that Harry didn't get any unwanted attention for no reason. Hermione went back down to find the card game and the two board games, then came back and sat in the dormitory with the boys so they could continue playing. She left just before midnight to join Lavender and Parvati in her own dormitory.

Harry, Ron, Dean, Neville and Seamus, who had finally joined them in the dormitory, played Exploding Snap for another hour before giving up and going to bed.

The next morning, a tired Harry and Ron muttered as they followed Hermione, who was perfectly awake and was lecturing them about their sleeping habits, and how they must change if they wanted to pass their OWLs.

Still half asleep, the boys managed to refrain from arguing that they hadn't even started lessons yet, and couldn't help but shiver in horror when the young woman announced that she was going to make them homework timetables as soon as they got their timetables. They sat at the Gryffindor table to eat their breakfast while Professor McGonagall handed out said timetables.

"Hey! We've got lots of free lessons!" Ron exclaimed, delighted, causing Harry to gesture for him to be quiet.

"That will give us plenty of time to do our homework and revise!" Hermione said firmly. Ron deflated and smiled weakly as the young woman added, "I'm going to make my plan now. I'll do both of yours when I know when you have Quidditch practice, Harry. I'll ask Angelina. Ron, I'll give you the same free time as Harry – I suppose you'll want to watch training."

The two boys smiled in resignation as she walked off. The idea of arguing with her didn't even occur to them, and Harry knew that he would need her help and organisational skills anyway if he wanted to achieve the results Snape demanded.

Speaking of Snape… He looked up at the professors' table and saw Snape and Dementia in the middle of a discussion, clearly quite agitated. He met Snape's gaze, and Snape acknowledged him with a nod. The young man was relieved to see that there was no anger or resentment in Snape's eyes.

Dementia smiled at him and stuck out her tongue, then stood up and walked over to them, using their presence as an excuse to escape from a conversation where she had been failing to convince Snape of the benefits of making Potions optional after first year.

She sat down at the table next to Ron and facing Harry – the seat where Hermione had been sitting. Before she even said hello to anyone she hastily tried to clear things up with her brother.

"It wasn't me!"

"What wasn't you?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I didn't tell Dad about what you did on the train!"

"I know."

"He told you?" the young woman asked incredulously.

"What do you think?" Harry asked, smiling. "I couldn't picture you getting me into trouble like that. I think he just heard the Slytherins talking about it in the common room – that and Malfoy told him his version of what happened. You know, the usual rubbish where he is innocent and good and I'm the evil Harry Potter who's always trying to hurt baby Malfoy."

Dementia and Ron burst out laughing while Harry innocently helped himself to some pumpkin juice.

"By the way," he asked eagerly, "did you write to Malfoy's father?"

"No."

"Why not?" Harry asked, clearly disappointed.

"Because compared to Lucius Malfoy, Dad is a loving, patient and tolerant father. If I tell Lucius that his son was disrespectful to me, and given the punishment he will get, I would have to explain to Dad who got their wand out first… so it's fair, of course…"

Harry glared at his sister, who smiled angelically back at him. He shrugged. Fine, he would just have to wait for another day to know that Malfoy was worse off than he was.

"Hey," Ron said, changing the subject, "it's sunny – should we go to the lake?"

"Good idea," Harry said approvingly. "Are you coming with us, Demi?"

"I can't," groaned the young woman. "Madam Pince wants to show me how the library works. I told her that any random Squib would know how to run a library but I don't think she took it well…"

"Don't worry," Ron sighed, discretely pointing at Hermione, who was coming back. "We have the same sort of problem."

The boys snickered as Hermione stared at them suspiciously. She categorically refused to go with them to the lake; she had timetables to finish and wanted to ask Madam Pince for permission to read in the library before it got overrun with students.

Harry and Ron shrugged and set off in the direction of the lake. Dementia watched them enviously and, after glaring at her father, who was half smiling at her mockingly, she quickly trudged after Hermione.

The boys had sat down near the edge of the lake so that they could talk without, as Ron phrased it, "potentially over-emotional women" being around.

"So?" the redhead asked, lying on the grass.

"So what?" Harry asked carefully.

"Harry, please, not to me," Ron sighed. "When Snape came into our common room last night you were as nervous as Mrs Norris surrounded by werewolves. So I got worried…"

"You don't have to worry," Harry retorted in what he hoped was a firm voice.

Ron sat up quickly, apparently indignant at his friend's response. "I don't have to worry? Personally, I think that when I see you shaking like a leaf when Snape's around, even though you fought Quirrell in first year, the Basilisk in second year, Pettigrew in third year and You-Know-Who last year, after already fighting a Hungarian Horntail and swimming with Grindylows, I think I actually have a good reason to be worried. Bloody hell, Harry, what has he done to you?"

"Nothing," Harry reassured him. "Nothing that you don't already know. Seriously," he added, seeing Ron's sceptical expression. "But he banned me from fighting, he promised me that if I got into a fight, he would make sure to punish me again, and I kind of lost my cool with Malfoy on the train. You might know what happened but I was in the middle of it all and believe me, it makes a big difference. But when he's punishing me, I have to stay quiet and still and just grit my teeth and wait until he decides to stop hitting me."

"And he's only hit you twice, right? You'd tell me if it was more?"

"Yes, Ron, I promise I'd tell you."

Ron sighed but didn't reply. He simply lay back down, using his cloak as a cushion. "Well, it's going to be wicked this year…"

"Why do you say that?" Harry asked, confused.

"Well… if you can't come out at night anymore or do our pranks… and, if I understood properly, have to work – more than normal I mean – it's going to be… great…"

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly going to become a second Hermione, am I?"

Ron sighed again in response. Harry frowned and angrily threw a few stones into the water. A few seconds later, the two friends were sprinting desperately back to the castle, followed by a stream of random objects thrown belligerently in their direction by an angry tentacle.

"Great aim, Harry!" grumbled Ron.

"I wasn't aiming!"

They arrived, panting, at the steps to the castle, where they collapsed, laughing uncontrollably.

"What do we do now?" Ron asked once they had managed, with great difficulty, to calm down. "We could go to the common room, since you got us chased away from the lake."

"It's not my fault he's not nice! And how was I supposed to know that he was right at the edge like that?"

"I think it's actually a 'she'."

"Oh right, well that explains everything…"

The two boys burst out laughing again, thanking Merlin that Hermione wasn't there to hear them. When they were calm enough to walk straight, they walked to the common room to play a game of chess.

The day went quickly, and so did the next. It was Sunday night before they even realised. Hermione cheerfully made the most of Dementia's presence and squatted in the library, which was still shut to students. Madam Pince turned a blind to this little bit of rule breaking. She particularly liked Hermione, who always respected her precious books.

The boys had therefore barely seen her over the weekend, making Ron repeatedly say, "Lessons haven't even started yet…"

Harry had carefully avoided finding himself face to face with his father, not wanting to hear the rules and threats for the coming year again and, to his great relief, Snape had also not tried to find him to have this conversation again.

On Sunday evening, Hermione joined them in the common room and, with an amused smile, she handed them their timetables, which she had checked and completed.

"Go on then, complain…"

Ron and Harry exchanged sad looks but refrained from arguing. What good would it do? Arguing would only make Hermione launch into one of her endless speeches on the importance of revising from the beginning of the year in order to pass their exams, especially in their OWL year.

Instead, in unison, they folded their timetables four times and put them in their pockets without even looking at them, looking at Hermione defiantly. The latter rolled her eyes at their childishness, but refrained from commenting at all, even if she was itching to explain to them precisely why this year was essential.

Instead, she curled up in her armchair and watched the boys finish their chess game, which Harry lost, just like the four previous games. Then she agreed to play wizarding Monopoly.

"But just one," she stressed. "Classes start tomorrow, so we can't get to bed too late!"

"Bloody hell, 'Mione," Ron protested, setting up the board. "Don't start that again!"

"Ronald!"

"Seriously, 'Mione, drop it," Harry joined in.

"Harry!"

"No, listen, we promise we'll play just one game and then we'll go to bed, ok?"

Hermione muttered something unintelligible and rolled the dice. Half an hour later, the game came to an end with Ron in the lead; he had fleeced his two opponents and controlled two thirds of the board at the moment. Hermione carefully packed up her game and then, wishing her friends a good night, went up to her dormitory. Less than two minutes later, she had come back downstairs and was desperately rummaging in her bag.

"Is something up, 'Mione?" Harry asked.

"Yes," moaned the young woman. "I got my diary out in the library earlier to take out a piece of parchment and I was sure I had put it back but I think…"

The young woman trailed off, biting her lip, then suddenly emptied her bag all over the floor.

"Hermione?" Ron tried.

"I must have left it there," moaned the young woman, on the verge of tears. "It was leather-bound, I must have confused it with a book and put it on the trolley with the others. What if someone finds it! Merlin, what if a Slytherin finds it!"

"What's in the diary?" Harry asked.

"Everything! Absolutely everything! My fears, my desires, everything about me is in there! I didn't even protect it with a spell! How could I have been so stupid?"

"Ok, ok, don't panic," Harry replied, "you said you left it in the library?"

"Yes," Hermione replied in a small voice.

"Good, it's closed to students, so no one will have found it except Madam Pince or Demi, and neither of them would read it."

"But what if no one found it, or Demi tidied it up with the others? I stacked the books according to subject, so she might not necessarily have looked at the books before putting them back!"

"Calm down, 'Mione," Ron said. "We'll work something out! Could you go tomorrow before class?"

"The library doesn't open until 9 on Mondays, Ron! And the Slytherins don't have any lessons from 9 to 10, but we do!" Hermione said, sounding more and more hysterical.

"Right," declared Harry, "there's only one solution."

He stood and quickly climbed the stairs to his dormitory, coming back several minutes later with two objects the trio knew well in his hand.

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, no! Not on the first day! Professor Snape will kill you!"

"He won't know anything about it, 'Mione! Do you want a Slytherin to find your diary?"

"No," murmured the young witch.

"Good. Demi should still be in the library."

Harry handed Ron the invisibility cloak and pointed his wand at the map he held in his hands. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"

He quietly watched as the map of the castle appeared as if drawn by invisible hands, then looked at the footsteps that were moving. "Ok, Demi is in the library. Filch is on the 7th floor. Mrs Norris is in the girls' toilets on the 4th floor. My father is in his rooms. The coast is clear."

Ron hesitated for a moment before hesitantly speaking. "You don't have anything to prove, Harry. We can go without you, you know."

As a response, Harry grabbed the invisibility cloak and threw it over them. "Don't be stupid, Ron, let's go and find this bloody diary!"


	9. Chapter 9

**For those who seem to regard this story as a personal offense, remember: no one forces you to read, so just close the window and read something else!**  
 **For others: sorry for the delay! I have no excuse, Les Varioufs had sent me the chapter for a while! It's the "holiday" effect!  
Good reading. **

* * *

"Ow! Ron!"

"Sorry 'Mione…"

"Can you guys be quiet?" Harry growled.

"Sorry, Harry," Ron and Hermione murmured.

The cloak barely covered all three of them and they kept stepping on each other's toes. Harry checked the Marauder's Map every three metres.

Demi was still in the library and wasn't showing any signs of moving. In fact, she hadn't moved at all and Harry could easily picture her sitting at one of the tables writing in her Muggle notepad, or lost in a book, looking for a point that confirmed her theories so she could progress with her thesis…

Filch and his horrible Mrs Norris were far away from them. As for Snape, he seemed to be heading for the Slytherin common room, which was in the opposite direction to them.

Getting this diary back was going to be child's play.

They silently walked down the two flights of stairs leading to the Gryffindor tower and had to wait for a moment for the stairs to fall back into place.

"Is everything still ok, Harry?" whispered Ron.

"I'm looking… _lumos_!"

Harry peered at the map intently. Snape was in the Slytherin common room, Filch was chasing Peeves at the other end of the castle and Mrs Norris was patrolling a corridor.

"Mrs Norris and Filch are still separated," sighed Harry.

"Are either of them coming towards us?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"No, not at the moment – Filch is dealing with Peeves and Mrs Norris is rummaging around the corners of the first floor in the north tower. Come on!"

Since the stairs had finally decided to stay still, they walked down three more flights. Now they had to cross the entire corridor on the second floor to leave the tower and find the stairs leading to the Great Hall.

Absolutely silent, the trio slowly walked down the freezing corridor, praying that they wouldn't run into Moaning Myrtle, the ghost who haunted the girls' toilets on the second floor and who had a certain weakness for Harry. The young girl was not exactly known for her discretion, and Harry wasn't 100% sure that she couldn't see through the cloak. He got the impression that Nearly Headless Nick could see through his father's cloak, and if he could Myrtle certainly could too.

The last thing they needed was for her to start wailing that no one liked her if Harry had to tell her that they didn't have time to chat in the corridor.

Harry waited until they had left the haunted toilets at least twenty metres behind them and had arrived at the stairs before he once again checked the Marauder's Map. First, his gaze was drawn to the dungeons to check that Snape was still there; he seemed to have gone back to the Potions classroom. Then he looked around their three names, which were almost on top of each other at the top of the stairs, and his heart nearly stopped.

"Shit," he muttered.

"Language, Harry," Hermione protested automatically.

"What?" Ron asked at the same time.

"Mrs Norris… she's coming up the stairs, she's heading straight for us."

"Oh Merlin," moaned Hermione.

Harry quickly glanced at the map. "Ok, don't panic, come on…"

Following Harry's lead, they walked along the second floor corridor until they reached the Transfiguration classroom, and from there they climbed the stairs to the third floor and walked to the north tower.

"There," smiled Harry. "Now we just have to go down to the ground floor, past the Hospital Wing and we'll be there."

"Ok," sighed Ron, "then let's go – I can't wait to get back to the common room!"

Harry agreed but didn't say anything; he didn't want to make Hermione feel any worse than she already did.

Panicked by the presence of Mrs Norris so close to them, Harry hadn't checked where Argus Filch was. He therefore hadn't seen that the old squib had, for several seconds, been very close to them. The caretaker had heard whispering but hadn't managed to find its source. Quite rightly convinced that there were students breaking the rules, he started looking for the professor responsible for doing night-time rounds.

He found said professor on the stairs leading to the Entrance Hall while the latter was coming up from the dungeons.

"Professor Snape," he panted, "there are students wandering the corridors…"

"Are you sure?" Snape asked, frowning.

"I heard them whispering but couldn't see them."

Snape sighed inaudibly: students wandering the corridors? Invisible students wandering the corridors?

"Harry," he growled to himself.

Without even looking at Filch, he hastily made his way to the kitchens, convinced that was where his son was going. He hesitated halfway there… what if Harry had had another nightmare? Maybe he was just going to the Hospital Wing… he immediately turned on his heel and headed towards Madam Pomfrey's domain.

Harry, Hermione and Ron were about to reach the Hospital Wing when Harry gestured for them to stop. He lit his wand and glanced at the map.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, seeing her friend pale suddenly.

Ron grabbed the map from Harry's trembling hands and saw for himself what had frightened his best friend.

"Shit," he muttered to himself.

"What?" Hermione asked, not bothering to correct the redhead's language.

"Snape's coming towards us at top speed."

"Take the cloak and go," Harry hissed.

"What? No, Harry!" Ron protested.

"We don't have a choice. He'll be here in a few minutes and we're not fast enough with three of us under this cloak. Take the cloak and the map – I'm going to the library. I'll get your diary and I'll ask Dementia to cover me."

"But Harry…" Hermione tried.

"There's no time to argue! Go!" Harry ordered, before leaving the cloak's protection and running towards the library.

Hoping that Ron and Hermione had had time to get out of harm's way, Harry skidded into the library and listened through the door. A few seconds later, he heard his father's rapid footsteps passing his hiding place and heading towards the Hospital Wing.

He turned away from the door and set off through the rows of books, looking for Dementia. He found her standing on a chair, trying to reach a book at the top of the shelf in the history section.

"Dementia?"

The young woman jumped and almost fell off her perch.

"Harry! Are you crazy, you nearly made me fall to my death! What the hell are you doing here?"

"No time to explain – you have to help me, Father will be here any second."

"But-"

"Please, Demi…"

Demi studied the teenager, who was glancing nervously at the library entrance. His hair sticking up more than usual and breathing in short spurts, he looked like he had just done something extremely stupid. She wondered briefly whether she had done the right thing leaving France, getting divorced and coming to live at Hogwarts… but she couldn't resist Harry's pleading look for long.

"Ok," Dementia gave in. "Tell me what happened, quickly."

"Hermione left something important here – her diary – and I came to look for it but Father is close and he's probably going to come in…"

While he was speaking Harry rifled through the pile of books on the trolley. His fingers touched Hermione's diary at the very second the library door opened.

Before he had time to react, Demi pushed him towards a table and hissed, "Tell me off for being late and follow my lead!"

Harry obeyed and raised his voice. "Dementia! Can't you hurry up?"

"I'm nearly finished," the young woman replied.

"You've been saying that for an hour! It would've been better if I'd gone back alone."

"It was past curfew! You would have been caught!"

"Maybe, but I could be asleep now instead of waiting for you," growled Harry, silently praying that their act would work.

"I promise I'm nearly done!"

In the shadows, Severus rolled his eyes… how many times had he already heard that promise? "I'm nearly done" and "I'm coming" were two of Dementia's favourite sentences. And they were lies. He walked into the rows of books and glanced at his son.

Harry was sitting at a table, his head on his arms, glaring at Dementia while she worked. He looked like he could fall asleep where he sat. Or would have looked like it… if it wasn't for his gaze, which was slightly too alert, and his breathing, which was slightly too quick.

Severus stepped out of the shadows and called to Harry. "What a good start! Lessons start tomorrow morning and you're already breaking rules!"

Harry jumped and almost fell out of his chair, the movement not looking natural enough to be believable, but Snape didn't comment.

"I…"

"Oh, give it a rest will you?" interrupted Dementia, infinitely more believably than her brother. "I've told you before and I'm telling you now – I'm nearly finished!"

"Which doesn't answer the question… _what_ is Harry doing here?"

"We needed to talk," Demi replied drily, "and we didn't really keep track of the time. When the curfew call went, Harry wanted to run back to the common room but I told him he would be better off if I took him back. I was going to do it sooner or later…"

It took Severus all his years of spying and self-control not to, understandably, burst out laughing: sooner or later for Dementia basically meant 'probably never'. The Potions Master simply sighed audibly and shook his head. "Harry has lessons tomorrow, Dementia, and you don't want to botch your work by finishing too quickly. I'll take him back myself."

Without another word, he gestured with his head for Harry to follow him and turned on his heels. Harry hastily followed him after glancing quickly at his sister: Snape had walked away! And Hermione's diary was safely in his pocket.

Hearing the door close behind the two men of the family, Dementia rolled her eyes. Once again she had been thought of as the scatter-brained helper! As if she was in the habit of always being late!

Just wait until she told Sirius about this… Although, thinking about it, Sirius seemed to share the popular belief that Dementia Snape Parker Johnson was completely incapable of using a watch. That bloody mutt was perfectly capable of making fun of her! She decided not to say anything and, with a sigh, got back to work putting all the books away.

In the corridor, Harry was barely keeping up with Snape. They ran into Filch, who seemed cruelly disappointed when Snape confirmed that Harry wasn't the rule breaker that he had heard, as he hadn't left the library all evening.

Apart from the short conversation with the caretaker, Severus didn't say a word for the entire journey to Gryffindor tower.

Once they arrived in front of the Fat Lady, Harry walked around his father to stand in front of the painting. He was about to say the password when Snape grabbed his arm and threw him against the nearest wall. The left hand leaning on the wall right next to his head stopped him from attempting to run away. Then Snape grabbed his chin with his right hand and forced Harry to look at him.

"Do you really think I'm an idiot?"

"I-"

"Shut up! I don't want to listen to you, I want you to listen to me carefully. Stop trying to be clever, Harry, because you'll just attract problems too big for you to deal with. Since you're trying to be so clever I'm putting my foot down! Night-time escapades in the castle will also get you punished because the threat of doing lines clearly isn't keeping you in the common room. I don't give a damn if I have to thrash you every day of the year if it finally makes you obey me! You'll give in before I do! Is that understood? Or should I start punishing you right now?"

"No… I mean yes… I understand…"

"Really? Maybe I should make sure…"

"No! I promise! I'll stay in my common room!"

"Good… now get out of my sight!"

Snape dragged Harry to the painting by the collar of his jumper and waited until Harry had gone into the common room before he headed for his quarters.

Harry practically ran into the nearly empty Gryffindor common room. He leaned against the wall to calm down and slow his rapidly beating heart.

"Harry?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

He glared at her, coming close to lashing out at his best friend. He got a hold of himself and gave her a small smile. After all, he had only himself to blame; Ron had suggested Harry should stay behind so he didn't pointlessly risk getting punished and he had wanted to prove how brave he was, wanted to show that he didn't give a damn about Snape's rules… and he had failed miserably.

"Here," he said, getting the diary out of his pocket, "but I'm warning you, if you forget it again I'll personally give it to Malfoy!"

"Oh thank you Harry! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'll be careful I promise! Let's go to bed! Tomorrow we have Transfiguration just after Herbology and McGonagall will kill us if we fall asleep at our desks!"

The boys shook their heads and climbed the stairs to their dormitory. Harry quickly told Ron what had happened, making sure to include his father's threats, but made him promise not to tell Hermione.

"If not," he argued, "she'll make me show her written permission to breathe from Snape."

Ron smiled mirthlessly and lay on his bed without answering. Harry sighed, inwardly cursing Snape and Dumbledore for interfering in his life. Then he too laid down and quickly fell asleep.

oOo

"Very good. Now, I would like you to change this feather into a blackbird… the spell is on the black board. Off you go!"

Harry sighed, rubbed his eyes, put his glasses back on and tried the transfiguration. Next to him, Ron also seemed to be wondering what on earth it was meant to achieve.

"Very good, Miss Granger! You have understood the principle. Now try to make us a blackbird instead of a pigeon."

With impressive coordination, Harry and Ron glared at their friend. Hermione had had as little sleep as they had. So how was it that she looked like she had just had sleep therapy while they both felt like they hadn't slept for weeks? The two boys looked at each other and Ron shrugged fatalistically before going back to his feather. Harry did the same, although he found it impossible to concentrate.

"Psst! Hey, Potter!"

Harry tried to ignore the persistent noise, wondering why McGonagall wasn't intervening, then gave in and turned towards the person who was calling him.

"What do you want Malfoy?"

"Do you think you'll share a room at St Mungo's with old Dumby?"

"What?" growled Harry.

Malfoy unfolded a page from a newspaper and showed it to Harry. A photo of Harry looking haggard, taken the previous year when he had come out of the maze, filled the front page. The title "Has Dumbledore contaminated young Potter with his madness?" flashed aggressively above his picture, which was now collapsing to the ground, shouting silently.

Harry turned around, resolutely trying not to start a fight; he had enough problems with his father already. He gritted his teeth when he heard Malfoy's mocking snickering behind him, and seconds later he had a small pile of smoking and foul-smelling feathers in front of him.

Professor McGonagall hurried towards him. "I think you put too much enthusiasm into your spell, Mr Potter. Try to concentrate a bit more."

"Yes, Professor," he sighed.

At that precise moment there was a happy whoop and the entire class turned to see a blackbird flying away from Hermione's table to perch on the cupboard at the back of the room.

"Very good, Miss Granger!" cried the professor. "20 points to Gryffindor for a perfectly executed transfiguration, and in record time! The rest of you, practice before our class the day after tomorrow. If you have any problems, don't hesitate to ask me for help! Don't forget that you sit your OWLs at the end of the year and I expect every one of you to get perfect marks in the Transfiguration exam."

The students silently left the classroom. They had barely reached the end of the corridor when Ron sighed.

"I think that's all they'll talk about all year! We've already had to listen to a speech on OWLs in Herbology, and now the same in Transfiguration… is it going to be the same for every subject?"

"It's to be expected, Ron, it's an important year! The OWLs are the most important exams for us, even more so than NEWTs. The professors just want to make sure that everyone has understood just how important it is for our futures to pass them."

"For me it just means one thing: we'll drown in homework!" growled Ron stubbornly.

Before Hermione could respond, Harry quickly reminded them that they had Defence Against the Dark Arts with Umbridge and they really needed to hurry up.

"Anyway you've got to admit," Ron said insistently, "that our timetable sucks today! Transfiguration, Defence and Potions… and nothing else…"

"At least they're short lessons… we could have had double Defence and double Potions…"

"I guess," Ron grumbled, stubbornly refusing to be cheered up.

They arrived outside the Defence classroom just before Umbridge did and took their usual seats. Professor Umbridge slowly walked down the aisle leading to her desk, patiently studying the students.

She stopped near Malfoy and frowned. "What is your name, young man?"

"Draco Malfoy."

"Oh," she replied, smiling, her features immediately relaxing. "I thought I recognised your face. You bear a striking resemblance to your father. Lucius is a good friend of mine."

She started walking again, leaving Malfoy to smile in satisfaction and puff up in pride. She also stopped in front of Harry and stared at him for a few seconds, a mocking smile on her lips. She didn't say anything, however, and simply walked to her desk, where she sat down regally.

"Hello, children."

Her only answer was silence.

"I said hello children," she repeated sharply. "I will not tolerate rudeness."

"Hello, Professor," murmured the Gryffindors.

Their lack of enthusiasm wasn't noticed, drowned out by the clear and loud voices of the Slytherins.

"Since we only have one hour together, we will concentrate on discussing the rules this lesson. Rules, children, allow you to become responsible adults. You already know that at the end of this school year you will sit very important exams, commonly known as OWLs, which means Ordinary Wizarding Levels. Your future depends on your success in these exams."

Ron banged his head on his desk.

Professor Umbridge paused, eyes roaming the classroom. "The new Ministry directives are to allow you to sit these exams in a completely safe environment. And we will try to ensure that you do. I will be very disappointed next year if some of you don't have at least an Exceeds Expectations in your Defence exam."

"Next year?" Dean Thomas interrupted. "But professors only stay for a year in Defence, the position is cursed."

"Tut tut, Mr Thomas! In my class, students raise their hand before speaking. This story about a curse is a superstition, and I intend to prove this to you by still being here next year. The various professors that you have already had have only stayed for a year because they weren't competent… a werewolf… a magazine celebrity… a Death Eater in disguise… Only poor Professor Quirrell's absence is felt by this school…"

"Yeah, we definitely miss Professor Quirrell!" Harry interrupted, his voice mocking. "He was a good teacher! I wonder why he left? Oh yeah! He had Voldemort stuck to the back of his head!"

"Your hand, Mr Potter! It's a simple rule to follow and I only just mentioned it! Now, back to the matter of lessons… we are going to study the theory of each of the spells that you will be asked about during your OWLs. If you study the theory, you will be able to produce the spells perfectly during the exam."

Parvati Patil raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss…?"

"Patil… You mean we won't practice the spells all year?"

"You won't need to. The Ministry believes that theory is enough and will guarantee the safe environment that must be expected in a school."

The students exchanged looks.

"But-" Harry began.

"Your hand, Mr Potter!"

Harry sighed audibly and immediately raised his hand. Dolores Umbridge looked at him for a moment, then turned away from him and resumed her speech.

"As I was saying-"

"How are we going to defend ourselves?" Harry angrily interrupted.

"Your hand! But I will answer you anyway, Mr Potter. Defend yourselves? Are you scared of being attacked when you're in the school?"

"Well I _was_ almost eaten by a Basilisk two years ago… And my hand _was_ raised…"

"Don't be insolent! As for your story, Mr Potter, our ministry has investigated it. Unfortunately we did not find enough proof to keep the person responsible behind bars."

"And it's so true the Ministry is well known for looking for proof," Harry retorted bitterly.

"But," continued Umbridge without commenting on the interruption, "I can assure you that this school is once again safe and no one is in any danger."

"And outside?" Harry asked, annoyed.

"Outside? But there isn't any danger outside, Mr Potter."

"No," Harry replied sarcastically, "just Voldemort."

A shudder started with the professor and rippled through the majority of the classroom. Dolores Umbridge stood slowly, her eyes fixed on Harry, and walked around her desk so that she was facing the class. A hypocritical smile appeared on her lips.

"Children, I want you to be absolutely certain about this. Certain people suffering from a lack of publicity have decided to use the awful drama surrounding Mr Diggory's accidental death to make you believe in twaddle. There is no dark wizard waiting for you outside this castle. There is no armed, dark group that could try to harm you."

"Hey, wait a minute," Harry hissed, exasperated, despite Hermione nudging him with her elbow.

"I will not tolerate insolence, Mr Potter," squawked Umbridge in a shrill voice.

She pulled herself together with a cough and continued speaking using her soft, grandmotherly voice.

"Children, if anyone tries to frighten you and tells you there will be endless danger to amuse themselves, you certainly don't have to let yourselves be upset. You should come and talk to me immediately and I will put an end to this macabre farce."

"Your behaviour is criminal!" Harry exploded. "You're making them believe everything is fine and when they leave they'll find themselves thrown into the middle of a war without being prepared for it! Why not just take them to Voldemort yourself?!"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead, Mr Potter! He's only back in your deranged mind and in the plots of an old madman so he can seize power!"

"You don't know what you're talking about! He's back! He killed Cedric! I was there, I saw it!"

Umbridge seemed like she was about to explode from sheer fury but managed to restrain herself. She calmly walked back to her desk and sat down. She crossed her hands and delicately leaned her chin on them.

Then she smiled serenely and calmly announced; "Detention, Mr Potter."


	10. Chapter 10

**Don't try to kill me for this chapter! I really need this to bring Harry where I want to bring him in the rest of my story!  
Good reading!  
**

* * *

After the worst Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson since the one when Snape had replaced Remus in third year, the fifth year students made their way towards the exit with relief.

"Mr Potter, a moment please."

Hermione and Ron exchanged a worried look and Harry turned towards Umbridge, gritting his teeth.

"I have potions."

"It will only take a minute. Sit down, Mr Potter."

Seeing the defence professor's imperious gaze, Hermione and Ron walked out of the room and started towards the dungeons, while Harry sat down reluctantly.

"Mr Potter I will not, under any circumstances, tolerate you disrupting my class with stories worthy of Beedle the Bard."

"They're not stories! Like I said, I saw him!"

"Silence!" the tiny witch cried in a shrill voice. She coughed, regaining her composure. "Mr Potter, we both know what the truth is. You will come here for a detention every evening at eight."

"How long for? Professor," he added reluctantly, seeing the piercing look the witch sent him.

"We'll start with a week, Mr Potter. Let us hope that will be enough. You may leave."

Harry, still furious, stood and walked towards the door. He glanced absently at his magical watch, a Christmas present from Hermione in their third year, and groaned; he was almost 10 minutes late for Potions. Once the time it took to get to the dungeons was added, he would be 20 minutes late. Gritting his teeth, he turned towards the professor's desk.

"Professor, could you write me a note for Professor Snape explaining why I'm late?"

"I don't think so."

"What? But I'll be nearly 20 minutes late!"

"Then you should hurry," Umbridge concluded, pouring herself a cup of tea from the tea pot that she had just conjured out of thin air.

For several moments Harry stood there, shocked at the pink toad's pettiness. Then he shook his head and left the room, making sure to slam the door with all his strength before he began running to the dungeons. For a second he thought about simply missing potions entirely, but he dismissed the idea. It would only make things worse. Even more so now that Snape was his guardian.

Harry skidded in a more or less controlled way around the corner just before the Great Hall, and just barely managed to stop himself before he took out Professor McGonagall.

"Do you think you're on the Quidditch pitch, Mr Potter?" the transfiguration professor hissed, voice strict.

"No… sorry… late… potions…" Harry gasped, too busy trying to catch his breath to get his words out.

"Alright, go," sighed the witch, stepping aside. "Explain later. Let's pretend I didn't see anything…"

Harry's eyes showed a spark of gratitude as he quickly started running again.

Several minutes later, Argus Filch's shouts still ringing in his ears – he hadn't even bothered to slow down for him – he tried to catch his breath a bit before walking into the classroom. He glanced at his watch and groaned; 24 minutes late. He would be killed on the spot.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. The tone of voice used by the terror of the dungeons to tell him to come in made him want to flee. But he decided to honour the legendary courage of his house and walked into the potions classroom.

"Ah Mr Potter, thank you for finally gracing us with your presence."

Harry had intended to stay quiet or to simply say "I was kept behind by Professor Umbridge", but Malfoy's mocking look made his blood boil.

"Were you worried?" he hissed.

" _What_ did you say, young man?" Snape retorted, his voice like ice.

"Really? I thought you were meant to be talking to me normally…"

"You're really starting to get on my nerves, Harry!"

Harry sat down calmly and, imitating the icy tone of the man he was staring down, spat, "Maybe we should settle this as a family, _Father_."

If she hadn't been so worried for her friend, Hermione would definitely have got more pleasure out of seeing Malfoy's reaction. His sneer had deepened after Harry's first response, then frozen when Snape had called Harry by his first name, making him go slightly green with envy. Finally, he had nearly died choking on his own spit when he heard the words "family" and "father", and only owed his continued survival to Goyle smacking him on the back, almost dislocating his shoulder.

Yes, Hermione would definitely have enjoyed the sight if she hadn't been staring at Severus Snape, noticing, with worry, the fury appearing in the dark eyes. As for Harry, he was well aware that he had overstepped his boundaries but he told himself that Malfoy's expression had been worth it, and that in any case he had to be punished for the detention with Umbridge anyway and Snape couldn't kill him twice.

If the worst happened, he could always flee and seek refuge with Voldemort if he asked to be marked with the Dark Mark. Or to be killed painlessly. Almost painlessly. Actually… bad plan… after all, Snape was better than Voldemort… S _lightly_ , a small voice in his head whispered.

The lesson finished quickly; the students didn't dare make the slightest noise and Snape brooded at his desk, not making his usual comments.

When the end of lesson bell rang, Harry made his way slowly and calmly to the door. Seeing that Snape, who was staring at him, wasn't gesturing for him to stay, he left the potions classroom without further ado. Hermione and Ron silently followed on his heels. The trio didn't breathe freely until they were out in the grounds.

"Ow, 'Mione," Harry sighed a split second before the young woman slapped the back of his head.

"OW!" he protested more loudly as Ron punched his arm. "What's wrong?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Ron hissed, visibly furious. "Hermione," he said in a calmer voice, turning to their friend, "can you leave us alone for a bit?"

"Yes, yes of course," the young girl immediately replied. "I'll go to the library… shall we meet in the Great Hall?"

"Ok, thanks."

Ron watched until she was safely inside the building and out of earshot, then turned once again towards Harry, his expression immediately becoming more serious.

"What were you thinking?"

"What are you talking about Ron?" Harry sighed.

"What am I talking about? Last night you insisted on coming with us even though you knew full well we could go without you! And don't give me that rubbish about it being your cloak – you've lent it to me before. And you knew that it would be quicker just the two of us. Then this morning you basically attacked Umbridge. And now you're provoking Snape?! What are you trying to prove, Harry?"

Harry turned away, his expression stubborn. Ron gritted his teeth, trying to resist the urge to drown his best friend once and for all in the dark lake.

"Harry… Even I would be watching my step if my Mum was at Hogwarts. And you know just as well as I do that she shouts a lot but would never hit me… But Snape…"

"Listen," Harry interrupted angrily, "I'm not going to become quiet and well-behaved just because Snape hits first and asks questions later. I'm not scared of him, alright?!"

And with that, he turned on his heel and headed for the Great Hall. Ron shook his head and started following him, muttering "Pull the other one…"

When they arrived at the Great Hall, they sat down on either side of Hermione, who had arrived before them. Harry looked furious and Ron and Hermione exchanged worried and powerless looks. The two friends noticed, with some worry, that the potions professor wasn't at the professors' table.

oOo

Severus Snape made his way to the staff room, cursing under his breath about his adoptive son's unbearable nature. What had he done to the bloody boy, he wondered… He tried to make an effort and all he got out of it was looking like an idiot. He'd already resisted the temptation to thrash him when the despicable child had thought he could make him believe that he wasn't wandering around in the corridors…

"In the library – you must be joking," he muttered.

Had he really thought he could get away with his little act? Bloody hell! He was the head of Slytherin! He could tell when someone was lying to him!

"I should have cracked down on it straight away," he grumbled to himself, thinking that that at least would have had the advantage of calming him down!

After all, he was a former biased, unfair and cruel Death Eater, wasn't he? And as for the other pest, he planned to send her to finish her thesis deep in Siberia in the near future; he would send her, her elf, her designer clothes, her diet _and_ her nymphomania! But he would settle his score with his daughter at the right time, preferably when she wasn't expecting it – that would give him a chance to have the last word!

He pushed the door to the staff room open perhaps a bit too violently and almost got hit in the face when it bounced back, making Dolores Umbridge, who was drinking a cup of tea by the fire, jump. The witch dabbed at her dress with a lace handkerchief, giving the new arrival a wrathful look.

An evil smile drifted onto her face when she realised who had just burst into the staff lounge in such a cavalier way. Said new arrival continued to mutter as he angrily poured himself a cup of tea.

"If he thinks he can get away with it just like that after what he just said to me… really should have flogged him on the spot, Dumbledore or no Dumbledore…"

Dolores tried to listen to what the potions professor was muttering but quickly gave up. Instead, she moved to stand behind Severus (a reasonable distance away) and cleared her throat. It had no effect at all on her colleague.

She resigned herself to getting his attention verbally. "Professor Snape."

"What?" he barked, spinning around.

Dolores frowned and Severus murmured something that could have been an excuse if she squinted.

"What do you want, Professor Umbridge?"

"Cornelius – I mean, the Minister for Magic – told me that you adopted Harry Potter over the holidays."

"That is correct."

"If you want my opinion, he is a very troubled child."

Severus used all of his self-control to refrain from saying that actually, he could definitely do without her opinion and he would ask her what she thought about Harry's mental health the day he asked for Sybill Trelawney's advice about divination.

Instead, he took a deep breath and coldly replied, "It is true that everything was decided very quickly and that Harry could have been a bit… affected by our recent change in situation."

"That goes without saying," replied Professor Umbridge, doing one of her little laughs that succeeded in exasperating Severus and made him bitterly regret that he was no longer a Death Eater. "However, I don't think favouring him is wise… no doubt it would only affect him more."

"Probably," Severus grumbled, wondering what on earth this woman could be referring to.

"What I mean is that excessive favouritism is not doing this child any good…"

Favouritism? _Excessive_ favouritism? Snape almost turned around to see who this stupid woman was talking to… He could certainly be accused of being abrupt, severe, cold, uncompromising, harsh, demanding, merciless, strict, unforgiving, sometimes evil, most definitely biased, probably unfair, possibly spiteful… but he certainly couldn't be accused of excessive favouritism.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"I know that you are doing your best and that controlling a teenager isn't an easy thing to do," replied Dolores in a soft and compassionate voice.

Trying his best not to glue her to the wall with a well-placed spell, Severus sighed and asked, "Could you get to the point?"

A couple of seconds later, Professor Flitwick opened the door to the staff room with the perfectly innocent intention of sitting near the fire with a good cup of tea in his hands. He quickly closed the door and ran away as fast as his legs could carry him as a roar emerged from the half open door.

"HE DID WHAT?!"  
.

oOo

.

"Harry," Hermione began gently after discretely signalling for Ron to leave them alone.

"What?" growled Harry, giving his friend a truly dark look.

"Don't do that to me, Harry James Potter," hissed the young girl strictly. Then she sighed and slid closer to Harry on the sofa. "Will you tell me what's wrong?"

"You mean apart from Voldemort trying to kill me in the last week of June for the last 4 years?"

"Yes," Hermione said with a sad smile, "apart from that."

Harry gave her a sidelong glance and then sighed and shook his head.

"Harry," the young witch sighed, "you're going to end up in real trouble. You already have a detention with Umbridge, and now that argument with Snape…"

"Oh don't start!" exploded Harry. "What was I supposed to do? Tell Umbridge I lied and that Voldemort wasn't back?"

"No, but-"

"Then what? That's exactly what would have happened!"

"Harry calm down… You could have avoided adding fuel to the fire though, don't you think?"

Harry simply growled furiously. Hermione sighed.

"I know Ron is tactless… I don't know what he said to you exactly but what he wanted to say was that we're worried about you, Harry, and not just because you have the most powerful dark wizard looking for you."

"But that's the worst bit…"

Hermione didn't answer and simply looked at him unflinchingly. Harry managed to meet her eyes for a good minute before he had to look away. No, it was out of the question! He wouldn't admit that he was scared of Snape. He'd faced Voldemort, for God's sake! He would have given anything for Sirius to be there.

There was energetic knocking on the portrait and Hermione reluctantly got up, no longer staring at Harry, to the latter's great relief.

"I'll go," she sighed.

She opened the portrait to find herself face to face with the potions professor, who was obviously beside himself with anger. Without even glancing at Hermione, Severus walked into the common room and rapidly looked around the room.

His furious black eyes immediately found Harry and he spat, "You, follow me. Immediately!"

Then he turned on his heel without even waiting to see whether Harry obeyed. The latter, white as a sheet, gulped and slowly followed his father. Ron came running from the dormitory, having heard Snape's shouting, while Hermione, who was livid, closed the portrait behind them.

"What's going on?"

"I think Harry's in real trouble this time…"

Ron hesitated briefly and added in an uncertain voice, "Maybe we should warn Sirius, Hermione."

Hermione hesitated for a moment then murmured, "No, Ron. Sirius would come down here straight away and with Umbridge in the castle it's too dangerous."

"What about Dementia?"

Hermione hesitated again, looking at the portrait, biting her lip, then nodded gravely. "Dementia…"

.

oOo

.

While an anxious Ron and Hermione made their way to the library, Harry tried to follow Snape without getting lost in Hogwarts' corridors.

Bristling with rage, Snape took long strides towards the dungeons. Umbridge had practically called him incapable of controlling his son, had added dangerously that she completely understood that it was difficult to dole out physical punishment, and that there was no shame in being manipulated by one's own children, that it happened to everyone, and that she was happy to warn him about it.

She had made a complete fool out of him, so it had been a stroke of luck that they had been alone in the staff room… And the worst thing was that she wasn't really wrong, he thought, mentally listing the things that Harry had done; the fight on the train, his insolent attitude, his night-time escapade and the trick that had followed it, his attitude in Umbridge's classroom, his actions in the potions class…

Two corridors away from his rooms, he glanced behind him and saw that Harry was struggling to maintain the pace. He briskly half turned around and, grabbing the teenager by the arm, he dragged him behind him, making him yelp in surprise and speed up.

He didn't slow down as they approached the portrait guarding his rooms, but instead hissed the password and threw Harry inside. The latter wasn't able to keep his balance when his father pushed him through the portrait hole, and he fell flat on his face in the living room, which was decorated with Slytherin colours. He stood back up immediately and turned around to face his father, instinctively backing up several paces as he saw the fury twisting the features of the man opposite him.

"I've been much too gentle with you," hissed Snape, his look darker than ever.

Harry felt his anger rising but contained it. Gentle? Snape thought he had been _gentle_? They must have different ideas about what gentle meant…

"I don't even know why I listened to Dementia! It would have practically been in the news if the little idiot had suddenly started speaking sense," continued Snape, more to himself than to the young man.

Harry gritted his teeth; Dementia was definitely not an idiot. She was perhaps a bit self-centred, but she wasn't stupid… Also, she truly was gentle - she had welcomed Harry into her life without hesitation and treated him like he was her real brother…

"Don't say that," he said through clenched teeth, unable to stop himself. "Just because you're incapable of understanding her that doesn't mean she isn't as clever as you are… she's even cleverer than you! At least she's human!"

Hearing this, Snape closed the distance between them and slapped him brutally, knocking him to the floor. Wide-eyed with surprise, Harry lifted his hand to his lip. Fear replaced the surprise in his eyes when he saw blood on his fingers. The force behind the slap had split his lip. Snape bent over and hauled him unceremoniously to his feet by the collar of his shirt.

"If you think you can make a fool out of me and get away with it you're deluding yourself!" shouted the wizard.

Snape jerked open the door to the left of the sofa and threw Harry through it before going to his desk in the corner of the living room. The young wizard just had time to realise that he was in his father's bedroom before the harsh voice boomed.

"I'll make damn sure you never want to make a fool of me again!"

Harry turned quickly and paled as he saw his father standing in the doorway; he had taken off his cloak and held a thin black cane in his hands.

"Take off your shirt!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Yes, you will be! Do it!"

Harry stepped back, shaking his head.

"Harry…" Snape repeated, voice menacing.

"You said you wouldn't do it… you… you…"

"When did I say such a thing?" spat Snape, crossing his arms.

"You gave me a choice!"

"Once! And even if I did that time, you won't always have a choice! Now do it!"

"No," moaned Harry, "Father… please…"

"You're just making it worse, Harry," hissed Snape.

"I'm sorry! I don't know what got into me in Potions and-"

"Silence! I don't want to hear anymore!"

Snape sharply flicked his wand and Harry's shirt ripped, falling to the ground in a flurry of useless pieces. Harry was still stepping backwards, shaking his head, continuously saying "I'm sorry", unable to believe that his father could be so angry about a simple moment of insolence in potions class, but Snape was too furious to listen to his excuses.

Grabbing the young wizard by the arm, he threw him across the bed and, in the same movement, struck Harry across the back with the cane, making him cry out in pain. Firmly holding him down by the nape of the neck to stop him from defending himself, and without listening to the pleas of the young wizard, he lifted his arm and struck again.

After only three blows, Harry burst into tears, no longer moving at all but simply pleading in a hoarse voice, convinced that Snape would break something.

Despite what he thought, the cane wasn't completely rigid but perfectly fitted the curves of his back, making the pain unbearable. Harry had never imagined that anything could be more painful than being hit by a belt, but he was realising, to his horror, that his two previous beatings were practically nothing compared to the one he was currently enduring.

Harry only wanted to do one thing – call for Sirius at the top of his lungs, hoping against all logic that he would hear and come to stop Snape.

He was angry with himself for telling Ron that he wasn't afraid of his father, for telling him not to worry about him. If he had told him the truth, Ron would definitely have run to find someone, anyone, who could stop the beating that seemed to him to last for hours.

Snape carried on until the cane cut into the skin slightly in two or three places. Harry had suffered through thirty blows and was breathing heavily, his hysterical tears mixed with shouts that gave way to sobbing. Severus threw the cane onto the bed and turned on his heel without a word.

A whisper as he reached the door stopped him in his tracks. He span around, eyes narrowed, and froze. Harry had slipped into the tight space between the bed and the wall and had curled up there, moaning Sirius' name.

The Potions Master seemed as if he was about to say something, but changed his mind and, turning on his heel once more, he left, leaving Harry, shaking like a leaf, alone in the room.

oOo

Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione had gone to look for Dementia in the library, but she wasn't there. Running back up the Gryffindor tower to get the Marauder's Map to use it to find the young woman had cost them precious minutes. Ron hadn't been able to stop himself from making an anxious squeaking noise when he saw Harry's and Snape's names next to each other in the dungeons.

Hermione had found Dementia in the greenhouses and they had run off without even putting on their cloaks.

They shot into the greenhouse, startling Professor Sprout and Dementia, who were drinking a cup of tea and watching the bickering of a batch of star-shaped mimbulus mimbletonia, a new type of plant that the herbology professor was very proud of.

Hermione quickly apologised to the professor and turned to Dementia. "Harry's in trouble!"

"What's he done now?" sighed Dementia, assuming that her brother had once again been caught arguing with Malfoy by a professor.

Hermione quickly briefed her on the situation, telling her how furious Professor Snape had seemed when he came to find Harry. Professor Sprout joined in, explaining that Filius ("Professor Flitwick", Hermione whispered to Ron) had heard Severus arguing with Dolores ("Umbridge," Hermione explained when Ron looked at her questioningly) about something someone who hadn't been named had done.

"Harry," sighed Hermione. "Professor Umbridge gave him a detention because he refused to say that You-Know-Who wasn't back and that he had lied."

"We were going to warn-"

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione quickly interrupted, glaring at Ron before he could say something stupid, "but then we thought it would be better to warn you."

"Have they been gone long?" Dementia asked, standing.

"A while," Ron said seriously.

"If you would excuse me, Pomona…"

"Go on my dear, do your best to sort things out between your two men!" smiled the herbology professor, unaware of what frightened the three young people.

The two friends followed Dementia out of the greenhouse.

"Right, where are they?"

Ron quickly got out the map and looked at the side where the dungeons were. Harry was alone in the room. Snape was in the staff room, which was currently empty. He told the two young women this.

"Just as well," sighed Dementia, starting to run. "I would prefer to see Harry without my father hanging around."

Despite her curiosity, she didn't ask about the mysterious map, concentrating instead on the more urgent matter of Harry.

It only took them several minutes to reach the dungeons, running full tilt through the castle corridors, much to Argus Filch's fury – he couldn't say anything because the two students were accompanied by a member of staff.

Once they arrived at the door leading to her father's rooms, Dementia gave a complicated password.

The Potions Master in the painting sighed and rolled his eyes as he opened the door. "You've almost got it, Miss Snape. You're getting closer to the correct pronunciation."

Dementia didn't even bother to reply with one of the insults she regularly threw at the portrait.

"Come on," she said to Ron and Hermione, who hesitated.

"Demi…" Hermione began.

"Not the time – come in or stay outside, I'm going."

Before the two teenagers could make a decision, the portrait closed in their faces and the occupant looked at them mockingly. Ron and Hermione shot it a furious look and sat in front of the portrait, waiting for Dementia. Hermione bit her lip, her worry gnawing away at her. Ron reached out and gripped the young woman's hand with his long fingers.

In the apartment, Dementia soon noticed that the door to her father's bedroom, which was always tightly shut, was slightly open. She stepped into the room and peered into the darkness, giving her eyes time to adjust. She saw Harry at the same time as she heard his weak moans.

Scared of frightening him, she approached him slowly, biting her lip as she noticed the state the young man was in; the shallow bleeding cuts, cane marks that were starting to bruise, his red back, the tears rolling down his cheeks and his hopeless moans as he repeated a single word – Sirius.

"Merlin, Harry," she breathed, kneeling by his side.

The young wizard flinched when she ran a hand tenderly through his hair.

"Harry," she repeated gently, still stroking his hair. "Open your eyes… look at me."

After a couple of minutes Harry seemed to realise that she wasn't threatening and shifted towards her. Dementia gently kissed him on the forehead where a bruise was already forming - Harry had banged his head without realising when Snape had slapped him.

"I want Sirius," Harry breathed, his tone begging.

"Come and lie down in my room first," whispered Dementia.

The pain came back when he stood, and tears started running even faster down his cheeks. He let himself fall stomach first onto Dementia's bed, in the room facing Snape's bedroom. Dementia lay next to him for several long minutes, letting him calm himself down gradually. When his breathing was calmer and his heart was beating normally, she got up.

"I'll go and tell Ron and Hermione that you're ok. They must be waiting in the corridor."

"I don't want to see them!"

"Harry!" Dementia exclaimed, shocked.

"Please… I don't want them to see me like this," Harry muttered, his expression pleading.

"Alright."

The young woman reassured her brother's two friends as best she could, given that her fury was all too visible in her eyes. She explained to them that Harry was lying down in her room and that he needed to sleep, that they would probably see him that evening in their common room and that everything was fine.

Ron and Hermione climbed Gryffindor tower, not convinced by Dementia's explanations and thanking Merlin that they didn't have any lessons this afternoon, meaning that Harry would be able to rest from now until his detention early that evening.

Dementia returned to Harry's side and sat next to him.

"Please, Demi…"

"What? What do you want?"

"Sirius."

Dementia sighed; Sirius would be on the war path and would be in danger… but she couldn't deny Harry this comfort. She knew that the only person who would be able to detect Sirius' presence inside Hogwarts would be Dumbledore and that he wouldn't say anything.

"I'll call him. Rest."

She threw a handful of powder into the chimney and shouted, "Number 12, Grimmauld Place!"

She stuck her head into the chimney and called, "Sirius? Kreacher?"

"Demi?"

Sirius approached the chimney with a smile, which froze when he saw the expression on his girlfriend's face. "What's going on?"

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid!"

"What?"

"Sirius, promise me that no matter what I tell you, you won't take any risks! Harry and I need you!"

"You're worrying me, Dementia."

"Sirius!"

"Alright, I'll stay calm, whatever you say."

"I want a wizard vow!"*

Sirius' expression grew grave; a wizard vow wasn't done lightly. It must be serious.

"I solemnly swear on my life and my magic that I will not do anything that could be dangerous for me after I hear what you tell me."

Dementia smiled sadly, satisfied. "Sirius, you have to come to Hogwarts. Immediately. It's Harry…"

Sirius froze, then nodded and ran out of Grimmauld Place. Dementia quickly explained to Harry that she was going to look for Sirius and would be back soon.

Twenty minutes later, she led a black dog into the rooms that she shared with her father.

Sirius transformed as soon as he was inside. "Where is he?"

"In my room. Stay calm, Sirius…"

When he saw Harry, Sirius gritted his teeth, barely restraining himself from running off and slitting Snape's throat on the spot. Dementia was right to demand a wizard vow!

He approached the bed and bent down so that he was at the same height as his godson. "Harry?"

The young man opened his eyes and sat up, biting his lip. He met his godfather's worried gaze and burst into tears, throwing himself into his arms.

"Where's your father, Dementia?" Sirius asked furiously, holding Harry close.

"Look after Harry. Stay in my room, both of you. Only Dumbledore can come in here. I'll take care of the rest…" she finished coldly.

Leaving the two men alone, she left the rooms and went to the Great Hall, where she knew she would find her father. Just as she thought, he had just started his meal and was distractedly listening to a conversation between Minerva, Pomona and Filius.

Restraining herself from casting one of the three unforgivable curses on him, she stood in front of him, her expression dark. He looked up at her and didn't say a word.

"Proud of yourself?" she hissed.

"Don't get involved," he replied coldly.

"Give me one good reason not to disfigure you, to cut out your organs and make them into potions ingredients before throwing the rest of you into the Forbidden Forest," she replied, raising her voice so much that the Great Hall became completely silent.

"This is neither the time nor the place," replied Snape, not showing the shock he felt at his daughter's coldness and more than imaginative threats.

"How could you do that?" hissed Dementia harshly.

"Dementia!"

"What, you don't like attention being drawn to you? You should have thought of that before! You think you know what humiliation means? You haven't seen anything yet, Snape!"

Snape stood and, grabbing his daughter by the arm, he dragged her to the staff room, which was empty. He pushed her inside and magically locked the door behind them.

"Don't ever do that to me again!" he spat.

"Do you even realise how close I am to wringing your neck?"

"Dement-"

"Nothing," she interrupted furiously, "nothing can justify what you have just done, do you hear me?! You disgust me! I can't believe I'm related to you! You're no better than _she_ is!"

Snape paled; he didn't have to ask who "she" was. He opened his mouth to reply but, seeing Dementia's furious expression, he thought better of it.

"You deserve me turning you over to Sirius! Or worse – Molly! You're not fit to be a father!"

The mocking smirk that had begun to appear on Snape's lips at the mention of Sirius disappeared at Molly's name. God, she would skin him alive… and of course Dementia was right.

"I know," he breathed.

"You're nothing but a… what?"

"I said 'I know'," sighed Snape. He sat in an armchair and gestured for Dementia to do the same. "Demi, I assure you that I regretted my decision as soon as I calmed down, that is to say when I saw the state that Harry was in. I wanted to talk to him but I changed my mind – it probably would only have scared him more."

"Yes, probably," Dementia agreed.

"I'll talk to him later. Make him drink this," he continued, handing her a potion, "it will help with the pain."

Dementia nodded and put the potion in her pocket.

"I'll go back to him," she said, not mentioning that Sirius was there already.

When she got back to her room, Sirius was still holding his godson in his arms and Harry had stopped crying. She handed the potion to Sirius, who sniffed it to see what it was before he made Harry drink it. Harry relaxed immediately.

"Harry, it's time for your detention. Do you think you can go?"

"Yes," Harry whispered weakly. "I don't want to give her the satisfaction…"

He hugged Sirius one last time and cuddled Dementia before leaving and making his way towards the defence classroom.

Once they were alone Sirius gave Dementia a black look. "Where did you find this potion?"

"He gave it to me to give to Harry."

Sirius laughed coldly. "Is Snivellus feeling guilty?"

"I don't know… he says he is… He's no better than she is… Talk about a family…"

Sirius held out an arm and moved Dementia to sit in his lap, holding her close. "You're much better than them, Dementia."

"You think so?"

"I'm certain of it."

Just under an hour later, a black dog could be seen walking away from Hogwarts.

oOo

Harry knocked on the defence classroom door and walked in when he heard an answering "Come in". Professor Umbridge smiled in satisfaction when she saw his reddened eyes, his split slip and the bruise on his forehead.

"Right, Mr Potter, I want you to write lines. Here is a piece of parchment and a quill. You won't need any ink. Write 'I must not tell lies'."

"How many times?" Harry asked in a resigned voice.

"Well, We'll see that ..."

Harry started to write and soon understood why he wouldn't need ink when the words that he was writing in bright red on the parchment seared themselves into his left hand. Determined not to give the professor the satisfaction, he gritted his teeth and continued to write without uttering a single complaint.

Professor Umbridge settled herself into her armchair, a cup of tea in her hand and a small smile on her face.

And Harry continued to write…

*A wizard vow is an oath that, when broken, makes someone lose their magic and is not to be confused with an unbreakable vow.


	11. Chapter 11

_Hello people, I hope you enjoy this chapter. The translation advances, slowly, but surely. I warmly thank Varioufs for his investment! I wish you a good reading and, for those who do not like the story, or the character I have attributed to the characters, or Dementia ... you see the little red cross? Top right? Click on it! It's that simple! For others, I read all your comments, even if sometimes I do not understand everything and that suddenly, I'm a little long to answer!_

 _._

* * *

.

At around ten o'clock, Umbridge let Harry go. "You should go and get some sleep, Mr Potter. I wouldn't want you to miss our meeting tomorrow evening – eight o'clock sharp."

Harry gritted his teeth and headed for the common room without a word. The potion had stopped working and pain was washing over him in waves. He reached the common room with difficulty and found it to be deserted except for Ron and Hermione. Hermione leapt forwards as if to hug him tightly but Ron grabbed her arm to stop her.

"You ok, Harry?" he asked seriously.

The young man nodded vaguely.

"What did Professor Umbridge make you do?" Hermione asked, realising that Ron didn't want to make Harry dwell on what had happened with Snape.

Harry shrugged carefully and mimed writing lines, which prompted his friends to frown in unison. For almost an hour they talked about everything and nothing, trying in vain to make Harry talk, but Harry simply nodded or made a sort of muffled grunting sound.

They ended up giving up and, as Hermione suggested, went to bed. Ron watched Harry slowly stretch out on his front, feeling a rush of hatred towards Snape rising in his chest, before going to bed himself.

The next morning, Harry shook his head at the idea of going to the Great Hall for breakfast, so Hermione volunteered to find some toast and fruit for all three of them.

Since the first lesson of the day was potions, they started towards the dungeons soon afterwards. Halfway there Harry stopped abruptly.

Hermione turned to him, frowning. "Harry? We're going to be late…"

"Can't…" the young man breathed in a hoarse voice.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Ron quickly grabbed her, making a sudden decision.

"Ok, go back to sleep. You need it. I'll tell him you aren't feeling well."

Harry turned and left without further ado. Hermione sighed and followed Ron, who had carried on walking to the dungeons without waiting for her. Snape entered the classroom several minutes after they arrived and immediately noticed the Gryffindor's absence.

"Where is Harry?" he asked coldly.

"He had nightmares all night," Ron replied.

"He could barely stand up this morning," Hermione added bravely. "We told him to go back to bed."

Snape nodded, making no further comment, and started his lesson.

Harry joined his friends two hours later in Herbology, and didn't say a single word for the rest of the day or during his detention that evening.

The next day, Harry once again refused to go to potions or the Great Hall.  
Snape didn't ask any questions.

oOo

After three days of this, it was obvious to everyone in the castle that Dementia Snape was furious. Despite the fact that the vast majority of the students were unaware of what had happened between Snape and his son, it was blindingly obvious that the one who had caused this fury was their Potions Professor and that not only was Dementia being extremely spiteful, but she had also called upon a sort of female solidarity that meant that all of the women at Hogwarts, from the house elves to the Deputy Headmistress, including Mrs Norris and with the notable exception of Dolores Umbridge, shot the Potions Master utterly dark looks and peppered him with highly unflattering comments (even furious hissing in Mrs Norris's case).

On the morning of the third day after the falling out between Snape and Harry, Dementia came into the Great Hall to eat her breakfast with an evil smile hovering on her face.

Even though she knew that Ron and Hermione took him food to eat in the Gryffindor tower, she grimaced when she noticed Harry's absence. She had tried to convince the young man to come and eat with his classmates, but he hadn't even bothered to reply. Not that that shocked her; Ron and Hermione had told her that Harry seemed determined to only speak the bare minimum required, sometimes even less if they let him.

The post owls started arriving.

Snape automatically picked up his Daily Prophet, which was once more put together back to front (the person in charge of subscriptions was a former work colleague of Dementia's), and half of which had been thrown into his porridge (the postal owl was female), and froze when he noticed the bright red envelope underneath it.

Knowing from experience that it was pointless not to open this type of post, and noticing that the envelope had started to pulsate as if it was alive and was about to explode, he hastily opened the howler.

It jumped out of his hands and floated at face level while the magically amplified voice of Molly Weasley rang out, making all the redheads at the Gryffindor table jump at once:

" **I can't believe you dared do such a thing!**

 **Have you completely lost your mind? Have the vapours from all those potions finally managed to make you fit for the 4** **th** **floor of St Mungo's?**

 **I've never been so furious in my entire life! Not even when Fred and George hung Mr Filch by his feet in the middle of the Great Hall! Not even when Ron stole his father's car so he could get to Hogwarts!**

 **I'm warning you, if you so much as raise an eyebrow at the poor child you'll have me to deal with! Is that understood?!**

 **As for you, Albus – Arthur let me finish! – there's no use hiding behind Minerva! We need to have a little chat about your crazy ideas! It's unacceptable –What "Molly" ?! – it's unacceptable to be so irresponsible at your age! Have you been eating too many lemon drops, or do we really need to worry about the future of the wizarding community?** "

The letter burst into flames as soon as Mrs Weasley's furious voice quieted. Snape glared murderously at the Great Hall, daring anyone to laugh.

At the Gryffindor table, George murmured, "What happened between Harry and Snape to put Mum in this state?"

"Harry will tell you if he wants to," Hermione replied firmly.

She looked so serious that, for once, the twins didn't push.

"Anyway," Fred continued, "it's nice to hear her yelling at someone else!"

The Weasley children and their friends smiled at each other knowingly.

At the professors' table, Dementia had managed to contain her laughter and carry on looking impassive. Snape's expression was a closed book and he was thanking Merlin that he was physically incapable of blushing. He kept telling himself that it was nothing, that he had lived through much worse, that getting a howler and being told off like a child in front of the whole school was better than being subjected to a full force Cruciatus Curse from a murderously angry Dark Lord, which had happened to him several times.

Just as he was starting to relax, an eagle-owl appeared and dropped a red envelope under his nose. This was too much for Dementia, who hid behind Hagrid and started stifling her laughter with her serviette.

Snape sighed deeply and, telling himself that it couldn't really get any worse at this point, he flicked the second howler open with his wand.

A voice that was quivering with indignation soon sounded, making Mrs Weasley's voice sound like a gentle summer breeze:

" **Severus Tobias Snape!**

 **I'm indignant! When my little Demi told me what you had done, I thought it was just a bad joke! Poor Mrs Potter must be turning in her grave!**

 **How would you like it if we treated Dementia like that? Well? What do you mean 'That's not an appropriate question', Charlus?**

 **Fine. I'll rephrase it. How would you have liked it if your father reacted like that when you got that poor girl pregnant when you hadn't even left school yet?**

 **Eh, what? That's what he… hmmm, could you let me finish this and go in the garden for a bit, Charlus?**

 **What was I saying… Ah yes! Mr Snape isn't exactly innocent, if I remember correctly! Mr Snape was a Master of Insolence before he became a bloody Potions Master! But Mr Snape can't stand it when something is out of his control, can he?!**

 **What exactly were you thinking? Hounding the poor boy like that won't make up for the fact that your own daughter winds you up like her first boyfriend, which is saying something!**

 **Oh sorry, Dementia, dear, I didn't mean that…**

 **Back to you, Severus – I'm disappointed! Extremely disappointed! You're lucky that my manners stop me from getting seriously annoyed!**

 **And being far away won't save you – I'm a patient woman! Just wait until I get my hands on you, and 35 or not you'll feel it!** "

Dementia could no longer control her hysterical laughter, which stopped just long enough for her to indignantly say "hey!" when her first boyfriend was mentioned. Severus had turned green as the howler had continued and now seemed to be on the verge of feeling ill.

She loved her adoptive mother's character as well as her cheek, which often led her to say, despite yelling for several long minutes, 'You're lucky that I'm still calm!' She could just imagine Isabelle now, standing in front of the howler quill, shouting at the top of her voice, hands on her hips, while Charlus desperately tried to calm her down and got himself chucked out the kitchen after being smacked with a tea towel.

She couldn't wait to see the argument between those two… although, thinking about it, maybe she would go fishing with Charlus instead!

Dementia was about to stand to leave the Great Hall when a black owl flew in and headed straight for Severus, clutching a red letter.

She raised an eyebrow. Another one? But she had only complained to Molly Weasley and Isabelle… She started to feel anxious… Sirius wasn't crazy enough to reveal himself like this, was he? No, it was impossible, he had made a wizard vow… But had he found a loophole? Sirius was a pro at finding his way around rules… perhaps he had phrased his vow in such a way as to give himself wiggle room…

She watched her father open the new howler with a trembling hand (which only her expert gaze saw), while he very likely started making plans to emigrate to the Antarctic.

Unlike the two previous howlers, a calm and cold voice could be heard. It was filled with barely contained rage, making the students shiver – they had never heard Remus Lupin, their former defence professor, speak in such a threatening tone.

" **Severus,**

 **For a long time I couldn't decide whether to come and see you, send you a normal letter or send you a howler. I chose the last option not to humiliate you, but for two reasons:**

 **The first is that I want to be sure that you will listen to all that I have to say, and it is much too easy to throw a letter in the fire.**

 **The second is that I would prefer not to be face to face with you before the full moon is over – I probably wouldn't be able to control myself.**

 **Severus, I am the first to admit that sometimes Harry needs to be put back in his place, and I'm not trying to undermine your authority, but I believe that there are other ways of punishing a teenager.**

 **Harry has always shown me the utmost respect and has always listened to me, and I have never raised my hand against him… perhaps my voice, once, but never my hand.**

 **What will be next? What will be your reaction when he decides that telling you what is on his mind will get him punished? What will you do then? Will you deprive him of food and water as well as hit him? Will you subject him to the Cruciatus Curse?**

 **Your methods are worthy of a Death Eater, not a father! And don't you dare tell me that it's all you learned - we both know someone who had an extremely violent father who would never hurt a child or a teenager.**

 **My condition has never let me care for Harry. Not how I would have liked, in any case. But even so, I'm not going to just stay quiet and stand by while you 'teach' him how to behave.**

 **So listen to me carefully, Severus. Listen carefully and above all remember. As you know, I'm not a violent person. But if I ever find out - and believe me, I** _ **will**_ **find out - that you lost your head like this again, you'll wish that James hadn't saved you in that damned tunnel 20 years ago!**

 **Where Harry is concerned, this is your first and last mistake.**

 **You know where to find me if you have any questions.** "

Dementia sat back down heavily, mouth hanging open. The little snake! That bloody, little snake! He had managed to get around the vow by letting Remus say what they were both thinking. She knew that her father was intelligent enough to work out that Black's dark shadow loomed behind Remus. And he hadn't even bothered to warn her! What if she had decided not to come to the Great Hall? He would have let her miss that? He was going to hear about this!

At the end of his meal, her father stood and left the Great Hall with dignity. If his face hadn't looked pale and angry, it would have looked like nothing had happened.

Dementia started to worry when she saw him glance at the Gryffindor table before leaving. What if he was furious enough to blame Harry? She immediately stood to follow the Potions Professor, but Dumbledore beat her to it and gestured for her to sit down.

Giving her a reassuring smile, he followed his protégé. He caught up with him easily, despite the furious pace that Snape was keeping on his way to the dungeons.

"Severus, may I speak with you?"

Despite the Headmaster's eternally benevolent appearance, Severus sighed. "Of course, Albus."

"Let's go to your office, I believe that it is closer than mine."

The two wizards didn't speak until they were well within Severus' rooms, which were next to his office.

"I know you're furious, Albus," Snape began.

"Furious? No," Albus replied with a slight smile. "I made a choice, Severus. I don't believe I have the right to tell you how to raise Harry. He is your son now and only you have the right to decide how to treat him."

Severus didn't reply. He knew the Headmaster well enough to know that nothing was this simple with him.

"No, I'm not furious, Severus, I am simply disappointed to see that you seem incapable of letting go of the past, that you feel humiliated by something as insignificant as a teenager being insolent."

Guilt. Obviously. Guilt was the Headmaster's trademark… And even after all these years, it still worked…

"I think Dementia is coming," the Headmaster said with a smile, "so I will leave you… Stay calm, Severus. Even if the law is on your side concerning Harry, I am certain that Dementia would love to take you to the Wizengamot."

Dumbledore left without giving Severus time to reply. A few minutes later, Dementia walked in and sat down in the armchair facing her father. He glared at the young woman and didn't say a word, and she swallowed.

"You really deserved it," she murmured.

Snape continued to stare at her silently.

"I'm still angry with you, you know…"

"Why?"

The young woman almost choked in anger. "Why?"

"Yes," Snape continued dryly, "why are you still angry with me? Because of Harry?"

"Obviously."

"Because I beat him? Or because he gets my attention?"

Dementia opened her mouth to argue back but he didn't give her the opportunity.

"Are you angry with me because I was violent? Or because I didn't look after you?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Trusting Isa and Charlus to look after me was the best thing for me. But Harry…"

"So we _are_ talking about Harry? Because I don't want to talk about the past, Dementia. I can talk about Harry, but it's pointless to talk about you."

"Yes, Dad, we're talking about Harry… Harry, who hasn't come to the Great Hall in three days… Harry, who doesn't talk anymore, and Merlin only knows why…"

"And who refuses to come to Potions."

"Are you really surprised?"

Snape grumbled. "What day is it?"

"Thursday."

"He finishes at 3 o'clock, doesn't he?"

"I think so, why?"

"I'm going to see him."

Dementia scowled. That was a bad idea… "He'll panic…"

"So he'll panic," Snape replied firmly.

The young woman knew full well that she wouldn't change her father's mind. She tried to convince him to let her be there when he talked to Harry, but he didn't budge. If he wanted to reassure Harry, he had to be alone with him… If not, Harry would continue to believe that he was in danger whenever he was alone with Snape.

oOo

"Nothing…"

Ron's head snapped up from his chess game. "What do you mean, 'nothing'?"

"Nothing at all… Literally nothing…"

"You haven't looked hard enough, Hermione!"

The young witch shot him an outraged look. Not looked hard enough? Her? She'd been using the library for research since her first year and had never "not looked hard enough"!

"There's nothing, Ron! I checked twice!" she said, annoyed.

"Shhh," hissed Ron, glancing at the stairs that led to the dormitory, "Harry'll hear you."

"Sorry… There's nothing – there's no law against parents physically punishing their children. They just have to make sure they don't physically disable them or use an Unforgivable Curse."

"And that's it?" Ron replied, indignant.

"That's it," Hermione sighed. "Wizards really need to learn a thing or two about child protection… We can't do anything, Ron, the law is on Snape's side."

"Unbelievable… So we just have to stand by and not say anything?!"

"I get the impression that Dementia won't hold back," Hermione said, sighing sadly.

"I can still see the look on Snape's face when he got the Howlers! Who was the second one from?"

"I don't know, but Snape looked furious," sighed Hermione. "As long as he doesn't go for Harry…"

Ron nodded sombrely. He'd been spending all his time worrying about Harry since they had come back to Hogwarts. Harry, who acted without thinking, who provoked Malfoy, who defied Snape, who argued with Umbridge - he'd known full well that he would be punished like this… And he still didn't know how much the Potions Master had hurt his best friend, as he categorically refused to talk to them.

Dementia had simply said that Harry needed rest, that he would go straight to his detention afterwards, and that she would stay with him. Ron and Hermione had deduced from her awkward expression that Harry didn't want to see them. And knowing Harry, who hated nothing more than to see pity in his friends' eyes, if he refused to see them, then Snape definitely hadn't pulled any punches.

And on top of all that, his mother had dared to send a howler to Snape and to shout at Dumbledore at the same time, not to mention Remus Lupin's cold anger… Ron had plenty of reasons to be sick with worry.

But Ron didn't want to force Harry to talk - it would only make him feel worse. If Harry wanted to talk to someone, either him or Hermione, he knew where to find them.

He glanced at the dormitory and decided to give Harry another chance to talk to him.

"'Mione?"

"Don't call me 'Mione," Hermione replied automatically, rolling her eyes when she saw Ron's grin.

"I'm going to see if Harry wants to play a game of chess. Maybe if-"

"If it's just you two boys he'll open up…" the young woman finished, smiling. "Ok, I'll tackle my potions homework. Can you tell Harry I'll do his introduction if he wants?"

Ron nodded and climbed the stairs to his friend while the young woman opened her books and sorted through her notes. Harry agreed to the chess game with a smile, but Ron quickly understood that his friend wouldn't utter a single word.

"Hermione said she'll do your potions introduction for you."

"Ok," murmured Harry.

"Should I be jealous?"

Harry's head snapped up, expression incredulous. "You and Hermione?" he murmured.

"Not yet," the redhead grimaced, "but I'd like to."

"That would be cool," Harry smiled.

His voice might not have been above a murmur, but at least he was speaking. Ron didn't regret confiding in him. While the boys engaged in murmured small talk – Harry's continued talking had drawn them all in – Hermione was delving into a book on research about the properties of Gillyweed.

There was a knock at the door and Hermione, her nose still buried in her book, got up to open it.

"Native to the Mediterranean Sea, this aquatic plant resembles a bundle of slimy, grey-green rat tails," Hermione said out loud, opening the portrait. "When a wizard or witch eats it, they will get gills to breathe underwater, and webbed hands and feet for swimming. The effects of Gillyweed last about an hour. Why?" she asked herself, not looking up, before going back to reading. "The effects of Gillyweed were first discovered by-"

"A very useful book," a deep and mocking voice commented, making Hermione look up quickly.

"Oh, Professor…"

"Is Harry around?"

"He's… in his dormitory…"

"Good. Go and get him for me, Miss Granger."

Hermione hesitated for a moment.

"Well, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape continued softly. "Has the amount of information you lap up finally succeeded in causing you hearing problems?"

"Er… no… Professor," Hermione said, regaining her composure. "I'll go and find him."

Professor Snape crossed his arms and gestured for her to hurry up. Hermione climbed the stairs leading to the boys' dormitory with dignity, refusing to let the potions Professor's cold stare make her run there. She sighed and then knocked on the dormitory door, something she never did but chose to now, wanting to delay the moment where she would have to tell Harry that his father wanted to see him.

Ron shouted for her to come in. She walked into the room and forced herself to smile. "Harry," she said gently, "Professor Snape is waiting for you downstairs."

Harry jumped so much that he nearly fell of the bed, while Ron grew sombre.

Hermione clumsily tried to reassure her best friend. "He looks calm, you know. He doesn't really look angry."

Harry nodded, but he couldn't really prevent his eyes from betraying his panic.

Ron grabbed his arm to stop him when he moved to leave the room. "Mate, do you want us to find Dementia?"

Harry seemed to hesitate before he shook his head and went downstairs.

Snape was still standing in front of the portrait, arms crossed, shooting glares at any student that strayed into his sight. When he saw Harry, his expression softened and all traces of anger disappeared, but Harry didn't trust it – he knew that his father was entirely capable of hiding his emotions.

"Harry, I wish to speak with you," the wizard said in a perfectly calm voice. "Follow me."

Unlike the last time, he waited for Harry to start walking before he turned away, as if he was worried that the young man would refuse to follow him. Harry followed Snape like a zombie, realising with mounting dread that they were heading straight for the rooms that Snape shared with Dementia.

Snape stood to one side when they arrived at the door to the rooms. "Go in."

Although he realised that he was entering the rooms in a much more dignified way than before, Harry couldn't stop himself from shaking when Snape got out a key and locked the door behind them. He watched apprehensively as the wizard took off his cloak and sat in the armchair.

"Sit down, Harry," Snape ordered calmly.

Unable to disobey a direct order and feeling somewhat like a house elf, Harry sat or, rather, fell into the armchair closest to the door. He ordered his hands to stop shaking and wasn't surprised when they obstinately refused to obey him. He nervously bit his lip, causing the pain from his split lip to flare up again.

Snape observed him in silence for a moment and then abruptly stood, causing the teenager to flinch.

"Are you still in pain?"

Harry hesitated before cautiously shaking his head.

Snape frowned. "Don't lie to me."

Harry nodded nervously, wondering what Snape would do now that he had caught him red-handed in the act of lying.

"A lot?"

Another nod.

"Is it too much to ask for you to answer me out loud?"

Harry averted his gaze and didn't answer. Snape sighed inaudibly. He knew full well that he was going about this badly.

He sat back down and tried a new approach. "Harry, look at me."

He waited until the green eyes were fixed on him before he continued.

"I'm sorry about what happened. But let us be clear – you deserved to be punished after your insolence towards me several times, your night-time escapade and your detention on the first day. But… I'm well aware that I was too harsh… much too harsh…"

He clearly saw Harry swallow, and stood up so he could sit on the arm of the armchair that Harry was sitting in, deliberately ignoring the latter's instinctive moves to protect himself.

"Listen, Harry… This won't happen again. I don't mean that you will never be in a position where you need to be punished, but I promise you that I will never lose control like that again… and if that does happen, you are allowed to fight me off using magic."

Harry's eyes widened in shock and he frantically shook his head. He would never do such a thing – it would sign his death warrant.

"Harry, I promise you that once I calm down, I will not punish you for it. Unless of course I haven't lost control and you're just hoping to avoid a deserved punishment."

Snape hoped that letting him use magic would relax Harry, even if he knew full well that he could easily fight off any of his attacks. That said, he didn't have any intention of losing control like that, so it wasn't necessary to tell Harry this.

"Harry… You can't keep avoiding potions class like this."

Harry suddenly stiffened. There it was. So that was why Snape had made him come here, to punish him for not coming to class. The young man closed his eyes. He wouldn't cry. Not this time.

Severus sighed. He didn't need to be a legilimens to know what Harry was thinking about.

"Harry… I understand perfectly what made you avoid my lessons and I have no intention of punishing you for it. You have missed three hours of potions. You will come here on Saturday from two until four and Sunday morning from ten until eleven and I will help you to catch up. Without shouting or getting angry," he added, seeing the boy's worried look.

Harry nodded, still not saying a word. Severus was beginning to get irritated. Why was the stubborn boy refusing to speak? He remembered ordering him to be quiet but he doubted that that would have caused the teenager to become entirely mute. If Harry still refused to speak in several days' time, he would have to have another discussion with him about it. It was pointless to rush the boy at the moment, he decided.

"Right, I will go and find you a potion for the pain. And another to rub on your back. I suppose you would prefer your friend Ron to do that rather than me? Or Demi?"

Harry nodded again.

"Alright. Wait here."

Severus was on his way to his potions storeroom when he suddenly stopped. _Merlin, what an idiot_ , he thought. He turned and kneeled in front of Harry.

"Harry… is your throat sore?"

The young man hesitated and nodded without looking at the Potions Master.

"Is that why you won't talk?"

Another nod.

"Alright, I'll find something for it."

He swore to himself as he walked back towards his storeroom. How could he have forgotten how much Harry had yelled that night? He chose three bottles from his storeroom and took them to the young man.

"Swallow this, it's for the pain."

Harry obeyed without arguing and relaxed immediately. The shooting pain in his back, as well as in his hand, which he had hidden from sight using his jumper's slightly too long sleeves, had disappeared.

"And this one is for your throat. Swallow it now, but you won't feel the effects until tomorrow. And this one is for your back."

He watched Harry carefully put the bottle in his pocket then added, "You can go."

Not needing to be told twice, the teenager headed for the door, noticing that the key was still in the lock.

Snape caught up with him before he could leave. "Harry, I know that I handled it badly. I'm aware of that. But the last thing I want is for you to be scared of me. I'm your father… I want you to feel free to come and see me, at any time during the day or night."

For a moment, Harry nearly told Snape about what happened during his detentions with Umbridge, but he changed his mind. His father might not intend to punish him that harshly again, but Harry didn't trust him. At least, not enough to tell him something like that. And anyway, he had always managed by himself. He would keep his lips sealed. Umbridge wouldn't have the satisfaction of making him complain to Dad. He grimaced internally at the word.

Snape wanted to make sure the status quo was clear. Fine… But that was all he would get.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello people,**

 **Sorry not to have published sooner but I was sick (in fact I burned out because in addition to problems in my job (Especially because of a particularly horrifying colleague!) I had to deal with problems in my family after a death).**

 **But I have not forgotten you! Here is the new chapter. I do not have any more in advance but I will send an email to our favorite translator to know where it is afterwards!**

 **Good reading!**

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"What happened to you?" Ron asked a dishevelled and breathless Hermione.

"I had to return a book to the library."

"Oh," Harry replied casually, "are the two gargoyles at the entrance still trying to kiss whoever goes through the door?"

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "I wonder what's going on."

The two boys shrugged unconcernedly. They didn't know why half the castle had gone mad and they didn't care. Harry reached out to move his rook and Ron grabbed his hand to stop him, making him grimace in pain.

"Harry, focus. If you move this rook… what? What's wrong with your hand?"

"Nothing," Harry replied slightly too quickly, hastily yanking his hand out of Ron's grip.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other and sighed. Hermione sat down next to Harry and playfully swatted his shoulder.

"Don't be stupid. Show us."

Harry hesitated and then, knowing that Hermione wouldn't let the matter drop if he didn't show her, he held his hand out to her and looked away. The young woman lightly touched the bright red cuts and then read the words out loud. Ron went bright red with anger when he heard them.

"You need to tell Dumbledore about this, Harry," Hermione declared, her voice sharp.

"He doesn't care! I mean, he lets Snape do whatever he wants…"

"That's not the same, Harry – Dumbledore's hands are tied because of the law. But with this you should -"

"I'm telling you there's no point," Harry interrupted her.

"You should tell Snape," Ron said suddenly.

"What?"

"He won't like you being punished like that. Bloody hell, Harry, she shouldn't be teaching! Can you imagine if she did that to first years? If the parents find out…"

"I'm not telling Snape anything!"

"What about Dementia?" Hermione asked insistently.

"I said no," Harry replied firmly.

The young woman looked like she was about to argue, but Ron gestured for her to leave it. Instead, she opened a book about the magical abilities of common plants while the boys went back to their chess game.

"What time is it?" Ron asked twenty minutes later.

"11:30," Hermione replied distractedly.

"I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry Ronald."

"Stop calling me Ronald."

"It's your name, isn't it?"

"You sound like my mum."

"Since your mum is a remarkable woman I guess I should be flattered," hissed Hermione, who didn't look flattered at all.

"What's wrong with me being hungry?"

"Nothing."

"So why are you moaning?"

"Er… we could go to the Great Hall," Harry timidly joined in, not daring to add that he was hungry too.

Hermione shot him a look but didn't say anything. She stood up with dignity and headed towards the portrait of the Fat Lady without waiting for the boys, who hurried after her.

On the way they ran into two students who were complaining about Peeves. According to them, he was using enchanted water bombs that followed their target until they managed to hit them in the head. Apparently there was no way of escaping them.

Hermione frowned. "That's odd."

"What is?" Harry asked.

"Peeves is a poltergeist, he can't cast spells on things…"

"Maybe a student helped him," muttered Ron.

"That spell is too difficult for a student."

"Well I can't picture a professor helping Peeves," the young man retorted.

Hermione nodded; Ron was right, not a single professor would have given the unbearable poltergeist the chance to make himself even more unbearable.

They finally arrived at the Great Hall and sat down happily. Harry poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice and was taking a sip while glancing discretely at the professors' table, when Dementia walked in. The shock made him spit his mouthful out all over Seamus, who was unfortunate enough to be sitting opposite him. The look on Severus Snape's face when he saw how his daughter was dressed made the room go quiet instantly.

"What in Merlin's name is that?" hissed the potions professor.

"It's Halloween!" Dementia retorted.

"Tomorrow!"

"I'm celebrating it early."

Snape sighed. "And what are you supposed to be dressed as?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm a ghost," the young woman announced, causing several people to laugh incredulously.

"Oh," Snape replied sarcastically, crossing his arms. "The ghost of what, exactly?"

"Tinker Bell."

"Tinker what?" choked Snape.

"Tinker Bell. She's a little fairy who follows Peter Pan around. You know, like in the cartoon by Walt Disney! You don't know what on earth I'm talking about," she noticed. "Right, well, I couldn't decide between dressing as a ghost or as Tinker Bell, so I did both," she explained, then turned in a circle so Professor Dumbledore could admire her costume.

Her costume was, to say the least, revealing. She had copied the dress worn by Tinker Bell in the cartoon that she had seen with her first husband and had charmed it to look pale silver. A light pair of sparkling wings completed the look, which really didn't leave much to the imagination.

Snape flicked his wand and Dementia found herself wrapped in a sheet just like a mummy in its bandages, glaring at her father through the two eyeholes that were cut into the fabric.

"There," he said mockingly, " _that_ is a ghost."

"I'm sure the Bloody Baron would love your idea of what ghost fashion looks like…"

"Ghost fashion? Is that a phrase?"

"Get me out of this sheet! Professor Dumbledore!"

Smiling in indulgent amusement, the Headmaster freed Dementia from her fabric prison while Severus shot him a cold look and Dolores Umbridge looked outraged.

Hermione shook her head disapprovingly while Ron burst out laughing.

"Your sister is great, mate! Completely mad, but great!"

Harry glared at him, but this had no effect at all on the redhead. Hermione threw a piece of bread at his head and stood, grabbing Harry by the arm.

"Come on! We have transfiguration."

Half an hour later they were sitting in Minerva McGonagall's classroom, leaning over some lamb chops that they were trying to turn into lambs, while Hermione, who had just earned 20 points for Gryffindor by transfiguring hers, gave them advice.

The sound of metal clanging loudly made them all jump. The sound came again, then again, and again. The noise quickly turned into an indescribable racket.

Peeves' voice could be heard above the commotion. "Forwards! Tortoise formation! No, horse! That's it! Go!"

Professor McGonagall opened the door and looked outside.

"Oh, Al – er Merlin's beard!" she cursed despite herself.

The students leaned back to look over their professor's shoulder and shouted in surprise. Most of the suits of armour had come alive and were parading in military formation, while a delighted and out of control Peeves ordered them about.

"I think I know who cast a spell on Peeves' water balloons," groaned Harry.

"You do?" Ron asked.

"It's too much of a coincidence. She's the only one who's already celebrating Halloween!"

Hermione looked horrified that a member of the teaching staff could play tricks like this. McGonagall declared that it was impossible to work properly under these conditions and let them go.

"I was planning to sleep in the rooms tonight," Harry continued, heading out of the transfiguration classroom, "but all things considered…"

"You were planning to what?" choked Ron.

"Well I was hoping to get a bit of help with my defence homework, so I can avoid getting another detention."

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look; it was certainly true that Harry was being overrun with detentions under flimsy pretexts. The first time he had been punished after the detention that had made Snape angry, he had been terrified. But his father hadn't said anything. He had simply advised him to keep a low profile and to behave as much as possible. But despite all his efforts, he spent half of his evenings in detention, and if it wasn't for the murtlap essence that Hermione gave him, the pain in his left hand would have been unbearable.

Despite Hermione's insistence, he was still categorically refusing to tell Snape about what happened in his detentions with Umbridge. He had mixed feelings about what Snape's reaction would be; on the one hand he was scared that his father would go after Umbridge, who was getting the Minister to pass decree after decree so that she could control more and more of the castle. Paradoxically, he was also scared that Snape would tell him that he couldn't do anything… or that he didn't want to do anything.

He wouldn't be able to bear being rejected again.

Ron seemed to understand, and although he called Umbridge all the names under the sun whenever he could, he didn't try to convince Harry to talk to anyone. But Hermione… She nagged Harry constantly whenever Ron's back was turned, and it had started arguments between them. Not that they really needed another thing to argue about…

oOo

The day before Halloween was the worst day they had had at Hogwarts since the Chamber of Secrets had been opened.

Not a single inkwell could be opened without it shooting out sparks and spattering the faces of the unfortunate students who had opened them, not a single school robe kept the correct badge, not a single corridor was free of Peeves' voice shouting contradictory orders or the racket caused by the suits of armour.

The dungeons were the most affected, since the ghosts only slightly shared Snape's idea of how spirits should dress…

In addition, the Bloody Baron became an ardent fan of Dementia, whose costume had given him a taster of what the young woman's afterlife could be like. The result was that the sinister and mysterious Slytherin ghost wouldn't tolerate the slightest criticism or comment about Demi, and that he recruited Peeves to go after those impertinent enough to lay into her.

And while Peeves chased those poor sods with his enchanted water bombs, the suits of armour did whatever they wanted and scattered throughout the castle. It then took a full hour and a lot of hysterical screaming for the poltergeist to gather them again.

With the help of her spirit admirer, who had deftly distracted the Potions Master, Dementia had charmed the door to her father's room and, as soon as he went through the door, he had found himself decked out in a long, bushy white beard that Dumbledore would have been jealous of and white robes that were just as strikingly bright as his normal ones were dark, covered with golden snitches that Gilderoy Lockhart would have loved.

Snape had started yelling furiously almost immediately.

"Dementia!"

The entire castle, with the notable exception of the woman responsible, had shaken in its foundations.

Much to the amusement of most of the students and all of the professors, Severus had then spent the day explaining to Albus, who was pretending to be offended, that he hadn't been thinking of him at all when he had ordered his daughter to get rid of the "ridiculous, old person's outfit that no man in his right mind would dare to wear in public", even adding that such a gaudy robe was offensive to bad taste, unfit for a decent person and only good for being a blackboard eraser, even though this would probably traumatise the blackboard.

Since Albus was himself proudly wearing robes that were so brightly blue they were almost white, and scattered with sparkling silver stars, it hadn't been difficult for him to pretend his pride was wounded by his Potions Master's comments.

Dementia didn't stop there. Following the (bad) advice of Sirius, she had taken it upon herself, despite Mrs Norris' passionate and loud protests, to dress her up as a vampire (teeth, cape and bat wings included) using a complicated spell that even Flitwick hadn't been able (or hadn't wanted) to do. Much to Filch's indignation and the students' joy, it quickly became obvious that Mrs Norris would stay that way until Halloween. Since the nosy cat was also decked out with a collar with multiple bells attached, she became as useless at watching students as Professor Binns.

The students and professors welcomed the arrival of Halloween with great relief (and perhaps a bit of apprehension).

For the first time in two days, the sugar and the salt weren't mixed up, there was no spice in the cakes, chalk didn't fly out the classroom to attack students and no more roast chickens were turned into live, angry chickens which chased and viciously pecked the student eating it. But the suits of armour performed a very realistic and impressive re-enactment of a great goblin battle while the ghosts surpassed themselves at scaring the students and Dementia sparkled more than ever.

The day before, Harry had finally gathered his courage and had gone to see Snape in his rooms, and the latter had helped him to write a completely uninspired and boring defence essay that was nevertheless theoretically sound.

During the next lesson, Professor Umbridge seemed furious to not have a reason to give him another detention. She had then provoked him for the rest of the lesson in a transparent attempt to make him lose his temper. Harry ended up biting his tongue so much that he left the defence classroom tasting blood, but he didn't give in - he hadn't even responded to her. Hermione's hand, which discreetly rested on his knee, and Ron's worried and furious expression, which Harry sensed was directed towards him, had really helped him to keep calm.

Despite Umbridge and once Dementia's antics (which Harry called the "Deadly Dementia-isms") had stopped (or, as Severus said, once the "unbearable child who was probably raised in the woods calmed down"), the rest of the week went smoothly.

Although the air was cool, the weekend promised to be sunny and, once Ron had mastered Hermione's tough syllabus – which he insisted Harry "didn't need too" – the trio was looking forward to a calm and relaxing weekend.

oOo

Voltaire once wrote: "The progress of rivers to the ocean is not so rapid as that of man to error."

Hermione, a perfect student who was curious about everything and whose parents were very well-versed in foreign literature, had already read Voltaire and had already seen this quote. Yet she had no idea what was in store when she got up on Friday morning for the last lesson of the week before what promised to be a relaxing weekend with her best friends.

As usual she got up, made the most of being the first up by making sure she was first in the bathroom, got dressed slowly and tried to tame her hair, passionately cursing her mother's genes, before banging on the boys' door and yelling that they had ten minutes to join her in the common room or she would go to breakfast without them.

Just as they had since their first year, they arrived in the common room 15 minutes after Hermione's threatening yelling, grumbling but glad to see that, once again, she hadn't followed through on her threat and had waited for them.

Just like every morning, they joked as they made their way to the Great Hall.

"You need to tell Professor Snape, Harry," Hermione pounced the moment they sat at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, as she had done every morning since she had discovered the cuts covering her friend's hand.

"You sound like a broken record, Hermione," Harry grumbled, making both of his friends frown, though for very different reasons.

"Harry," Hermione sighed.

"Broken record?" Ron asked.

"It's a muggle phrase," Harry explained, deliberately ignoring Hermione, who shook her head disapprovingly but didn't push it.

Ron nodded and turned his attention to his one true love – his breakfast. Hermione watched Harry for several seconds before helping herself to a glass of pumpkin juice and looking down at her own breakfast, which Harry understood to mean that she was giving in again this morning. But Harry wasn't fooled – he knew that she would persist, just as she had done since she had found out what Umbridge's detentions involved.

Loud flapping announced the arrival of the first owls. The first copies of the _Prophet_ were handed out, causing cries of surprise and fear. Hermione practically snatched her own copy from the grip of the poor owl which had just landed in front of her and quickly scanned the first page, paling when she read the large lettering.

"Oh Merlin," she moaned.

"What? What is it?" Harry asked.

Pale as a ghost, she unfolded the paper in front of him and Ron so they could read at the same time.

" **MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN**

 **12 Death Eaters Manage to Evade Dementors** "

"Oh, bloody hell," Harry growled, making Hermione grimace disapprovingly.

He quickly flipped over the photos of the escapees to read the rest of the article. One section in particular caught his eye:

" _It is highly likely that the twelve escapees have joined their former cellmate, the Death Eater Sirius Black. We suspect that Black is gathering You-Know-Who's most faithful servants together to carry on his former master's dark work._ "

A strange feeling settling in his stomach, Harry gritted his teeth to stop himself from losing his temper. The noise of shattering glass came from the high table. Harry span around and saw Dementia, ghostly pale and with the hand that had just dropped her glass onto the floor pressed against her chest, skimming the article.

Snape put a hand on the young woman's arm, and she jumped as if she had been burned. She suddenly stood and ran out of the Great Hall, forgetting to use the exit reserved for professors.

Harry stood and raced after her, shouting back at his two friends: "I'll meet you in potions!"

Harry managed to follow Dementia through several corridors before she shut herself in the closest girls' toilets. He followed her without a second thought. Hearing her throwing up in the first stall, he waited quietly by the sinks. She came out a few moments later and rinsed her mouth out, then dabbed at her still-pale face. Harry handed her a paper towel and waited until his sister was more in control of her emotions before he spoke.

"Are you ok?" he asked, finally.

"Yes… No," groaned the young woman.

"I know you're worried about Sirius…"

"Of course I am," Dementia replied angrily.

Harry blinked at Dementia's tone of voice – she was normally much gentler with him. He took the newspaper from her hands and opened it to the whole article.

"Demi, this doesn't change anything. Sirius isn't in any more danger now than he was before."

He read the article again.

"It really is a rubbish newspaper – the Death Eaters 'have rallied around Black' – it's all rubbish. The way they're talking, you'd think Voldemort wasn't back and Sirius is the new…"

Harry stopped suddenly. The strange feeling in his stomach came back, stronger now. He looked up at his sister's pale face. He looked at the newspaper again. His eyes flicked between them a couple of times before he finally understood.

"Oh, Merlin…"


	13. Chapter 13

**_Sorry people, but with the heat wave, I forgot to post the chapter! I am really not made for the heat! (That said, when it's cold, I hibernate, it's not better!)_**

 ** _I hope you enjoy this chapter. I do not have a new chapter yet, but les Varioufs are working on it as much as possible._**

 ** _I hope that the return is well spent, for those who had one and you have not suffered too much at work for those who were not on vacation this summer!_**

 ** _With that, I leave you with the chapter._**

 ** _Good reading!_**  
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"Oh, Merlin…"

"Breathe, Harry."

"Oh, Merlin…"

Dementia reached out to Harry, who recoiled. She bit her lip, hurt.

"Harry-"

"Does Sirius know?" he interrupted.

Not trusting herself to speak, Demi nodded.

"So _this_ is why Mrs Weasley doesn't like you! Everyone knew! Everyone except me!"

"It was already difficult for you to become part of the family, and I didn't want to make it worse. It didn't seem that important…" Demi whispered.

The bell signalling the start of lessons rang at the exact same moment that Harry exploded.

"Not that important? NOT THAT IMPORTANT?! YOU'RE BELLATRIX LESTRANGE'S DAUGHTER! THE WOMAN WHO SENT ONE OF MY BEST FRIEND'S PARENTS ON THE FAST TRACK TO ST MUNGO'S!"

"I know," Demi murmured. "I'll tell you everything I know, Harry – everything you want to know – but you have to calm down."

"CALM DOWN? YOU'RE THE DAUGHTER OF A BLOODY DEATH EATER, HOW CAN I CALM DOWN?!"

"Go to your lesson and then come back afterwards. I promise I'll tell you everything. Umbridge is watching you and she got Fudge to make her High Inquisitor – you can't afford to miss lessons!"

Harry stared at her for several seconds before slamming out of the bathroom, while Dementia leaned against the nearest stall's door, her stomach still roiling.

Lost in thought, the young man made his way to the dungeons. By the time he arrived in front of the potions classroom door, he was a good fifteen minutes late. He wiped his hand over his face as if to wipe away his paleness and walked in, forgetting to knock.

"20 points from Gryffindor," Snape snapped, not looking at Harry.

Harry didn't respond and instead sat at his desk, ignoring his friends' questioning looks. Merlin, how could he ever look Neville in the eye again now that he knew who his sister's mother was? Now he knew why she looked familiar. It wasn't really the obvious resemblance to Bellatrix Lestrange that had bothered him; he had seen Lestrange in Dumbledore's pensieve the previous year before the old wizard had explained who she was, what she had done and how she was related to Sirius and the Malfoys. No, what had bothered him about Demi was an older memory from the previous summer during the Quidditch World Cup… The shape of her eyes… her straight nose… the way she lifted her head haughtily when something displeased her… How could he have forgotten who it was? How could he have not understood when he got back to Hogwarts and saw another wizard with the same eyes? He had seen them next to each other! Could he really have been so blinded by their different eye colours?

Harry shook his head to clear the image of Narcissa Malfoy, which was blurring into that of Dementia. It seemed so obvious now…

He managed to stay quiet for a short while longer before his control snapped and he scoffed, making the entire room jump. "When were you going to tell me?"

Snape shot him a cold look and raised a questioning eyebrow at him, making Harry's anger increase tenfold.

"Stop looking at me like that and answer me!"

Snape stood brusquely and flicked his wand, and a series of questions appeared on one of the room's blackboards.

"Get out your parchment," he ordered. "You have one hour! You," he added, pointing at his son, "my office, immediately!"

Harry hesitated. He hadn't been alone with Snape since…

The Potions Master grabbed his arm, interrupting his thoughts, and dragged him none-too-gently to the door leading to his office. When Snape followed him in, closed the door behind them and placed a silencing charm on the room, Harry paled and quickly stepped back. Snape lifted his hand in a sign of peace.

"I'm not going to hit you, Harry."

His voice was much softer now that they were alone. He directed Harry towards a sofa at the back of the room and made him sit down before he took a seat on a chair facing him.

"Breathe deeply, Harry… Merlin, you're about to have a panic attack. What's going on?"

"You lied to me."

"I lied to you?"

"Dementia… you… Sirius… everyone."

"Oh," murmured Snape, understanding. "I didn't lie to you Harry. I just didn't tell you something that didn't involve you and which wasn't important."

"Wasn't important?" Harry interrupted, incredulous.

Had Dementia told him to say that? Did they really think that his sister being the daughter of the biggest supporter of the man who had tried to kill him since he was born wasn't important? Well he didn't agree! It _was_ important! He had the right to know something like that! It would be like finding out that the Potions Master had the Dark Mark after he had adopted him!

"No," Snape's deep voice continued. "It wasn't important. It doesn't change who Demi is or what she's like. She barely knew her mother, Harry – she didn't raise her."

"But…" moaned Harry.

"No. We'll talk about it later, straight after lessons. With Dementia."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

Snape immediately grabbed his arm and pushed him into a small bathroom. Harry had just enough time to lean over the toilet before his stomach decided to empty itself. He felt Snape hovering behind him while he stood and washed out his mouth in the sink, and then the latter put a hand to Harry's forehead.

"What's happening to me?" groaned Harry.

"Nothing," Snape sighed. "It's just the shock. Dementia always had the same sort of reaction when something overwhelmed her."

He rummaged around in his cupboard and held out a vial to Harry before pushing him firmly towards the sofa.

"Swallow this, calm down and come back to class. I'm lifting the silencing charm," he warned before walking out.

Alone, Harry sniffed the contents of the vial, looking disgusted. He felt sick again but, thinking that the cure couldn't be worse than this, he swallowed the potion in one gulp. The nausea increased at the revolting taste, and for a moment he thought he would throw up again. Then, just as quickly, the potion started to work and he stopped heaving.

Harry sat at his father's desk, intending to recover there for a few minutes before going back into the classroom. He crossed his arms on the desk, laid his head on his arms, and fell asleep.

Ten minutes later, the door opened and the professor, who wanted to see what was keeping Harry, stepped through. He sighed when he noticed that the boy was asleep, half annoyed and half worried. For a moment he considered the idea of waking him up by slapping the back of his head, but decided against it and went back into the classroom without a word.

Hermione and Ron exchanged worried looks. Once the hour was up, Snape walked around the classroom collecting their parchments. When he got to Ron and Hermione, he stopped.

"Mr Weasley, please go and get Harry from my office."

"Yes, Professor."

Worried about what he would find, Ron walked into the Potions Professor's office and immediately felt relieved when he noticed that Harry was simply asleep.

He walked up to his friend and shook him gently. "Hey! Mate!"

Harry startled awake. "What! What?"

"Professor Snape asked me to get you. What's going on?"

"I'll tell you later."

Rubbing his eyes, he followed Ron into the potions classroom. Snape raised an eyebrow at him.

"Feeling better?"

Harry nodded. Snape continued the lesson and discreetly kept his eye on the young man's potion, suspecting that he would find it more than difficult to concentrate under the circumstances. However, thanks to Hermione's vigilance and help, nothing catastrophic happened.

At the end of the lesson, Harry didn't move and told Ron and Hermione that he would join them later.

Once all the students had gone, a heavy silence fell upon the room. Harry rested his head on his arms while Snape sat lost in thought. Demi walked in twenty minutes later.

"Let's go to our rooms," Snape sighed, really not looking forward to the conversation.

Even though he understood that Harry had a right to know about the family he was now a part of, he had to admit that he had hoped he would never have to explain the circumstances surrounding Dementia's birth. Either to Harry, or to his daughter. Happy with the family that had raised her, the young girl had never asked to know anything more about her biological mother than the few memories that she had of her. When she was a teenager, she had followed Bellatrix's trial and, horrified, had never wanted to talk about her again, which had suited Snape. With Bellatrix safe and sound in prison (metaphorically speaking of course, since Azkaban wasn't exactly famous for being comfortable), he hadn't thought about it again. Her escape was bringing everything to light again.

They walked there in silence, with Harry voluntarily walking a few metres behind the adults.

It only took them a couple of minutes to reach the Potions Master's rooms. Snape settled into his armchair while his children sat on the sofa, as far away from each other as possible.

"How should we do this?" Snape asked wearily. "Do you have any questions?"

"How? Why? I don't know…" Harry sighed.

"And," Dementia interrupted, "could you tell the whole story? Without stopping? We'll ask our questions afterwards."

"We?" Harry asked, shocked.

"I don't know some things either," she replied, shrugging.

Snape poured himself a large glass of Firewhisky and took several sips before breathing in deeply and starting his explanation.

"I think it will be easier for you to understand if I tell you about what was happening at the time. It was 1976 and the Dark Lord was becoming more and more famous. Most people talked about him. Everyone was scared for their families. Whether they were the children of Muggles, had mixed blood or were pureblood, no family was safe from attack.

We were safe at Hogwarts, but we were very aware that, once we were outside, we would be thrust into the middle of the danger.

I was fifteen and had just passed my OWLs. I had always been a bit of a loner but became more so in that year. After a terrible fight, I had fallen out with my only friend and the relationship couldn't be fixed. I was always getting into fights with Black and Potter."

Harry sat up straighter when he heard the names of his father and godfather. Snape dismissed this part of his life with a wave of his hand and swallowed some more Firewhisky, trying to gather his thoughts and memories so that he could tell them a story that wasn't too disjointed.

"Thanks to special dispensation from Albus, I was able to pass a potions exam that gave me one of the three degrees necessary to obtain the title of Potions Master. An article was written about me in a potions magazine that of course went totally unnoticed. Or at least, so I thought. It was at least true that 99% of the students had missed it.

During the evenings I did my homework and prepared for my second degree for my Potions Master title in a quiet corner of the common room, where I could watch without being seen.

One group in particular interested me; several students who gathered around the Head Boy, Lucius Malfoy, and his best friend, Rodolphus Lestrange. Everyone knew that they would receive the Mark at the end of the year, and this forced all the Slytherins to respect them. Albus knew about it too, of course, but without proof he couldn't do anything. So they were the small group that ran Slytherin, and had many admirers but kept to themselves. Apart from Lucius and Rodolphus, there were a few sixth years, most notably McNair and Dolohov, as well as Rabastan Lestrange, the brother of Rodolphus and Narcissa Black, who was Lucius's girlfriend and went everywhere with him.

And there was Bellatrix…"

Snape stopped for a moment. For once, Dementia was quiet as a mouse and Harry was gaping like a fish out of water.

"Bellatrix," Snape continued thoughtfully, "was also in 7th year and she was… what's the word… mind-boggling. She had a caustic sense of humour, a laugh that could make your hair stand on end, and an impossible personality. She wasn't exactly sweetness and light - she was constantly getting into violent arguments with Lucius. It was also common knowledge that she was engaged to Rodolphus, though they weren't seen together. I found her talented, intoxicating and extremely attractive. Of course, she never looked at the poor 5th year that I was and I was never brave enough to talk to her.

There were only two weeks left in the school year.

With hindsight, I now know that at least one student had read this article and had talked to someone about it."

"Voldemort," Harry murmured.

Two shivers and two glaring sets of eyes followed this announcement. Harry shrank back into his corner of the sofa with a small apologetic movement. Snape sighed and carried on with his story.

"Anyway, long story short, two weeks before the end of the year, Lucius came to see me. He gave me a long, convoluted speech about how my skills shouldn't be used by just anyone, about Slytherin honour, power and respect… He was very convincing, but I didn't want to serve anyone. I dreamed of recognition, but didn't see any glory in living on my knees. I simply told Lucius I would think about it and left the common room, but noticed Bellatrix shooting Lucius a look.

Outside, I managed to get into a violent fight with Black and Potter, as usual. I don't even remember what it was about. I had just managed to disarm Black when Potter, after floating magnificently over the grass, landed in the lake.

I span around and saw Bellatrix turning on her heel and putting her wand away. The same evening, she came and sat next to me in the empty common room. We both read our books and didn't talk.

Finally, she got up to go to her dormitory. Just before she left, she murmured: 'Good night, Severus.' I didn't sleep all night.

The next day, she asked me about the book I was reading. The day after that, she pretended she was cold and huddled against me.

It was going too quickly – much too quickly to be real. But I was 15, I was in love, and Hogwarts would soon have been just a memory for Bella.

I didn't see anything coming."

Snape stood and poured himself another glass. He wondered if it was a good idea to tell them everything, but then realised that if Bella got in contact with Dementia, she wouldn't be so delicate with the details. He sat in the armchair, swallowed a mouthful of the amber liquid and started the penultimate part of the story.

"We kissed every night for a few days before the school year ended. Three days after I got home, I received an owl from Bella telling me that her sister and parents had gone to her aunt's and that she wanted to see me. My mother was delighted and before you could say Veritaserum I was at the Black house. And two days later, I was in her bed."

Harry suddenly had a coughing fit and Snape shot him a mocking half smile.

"It lasted for a whole week before her parents said they were coming back. She came to see me two weeks later. She looked strange, almost uncomfortable. And then she told me she was pregnant. It was scary. I was only 15, I was still at Hogwarts. She was 17 and about to get married. She told me that she didn't expect anything of me, that I should finish my studies. Then before she left she told me that the baby would be born in the end of February, the start of March at the latest."

"What? But I was born at the end of March," Dementia protested.

"I know. You were even late for your own birth!"

Once Harry had stopped laughing nervously and Dementia had stopped sulking, Severus continued.

"There's no point talking about the pregnancy and the birth – I wasn't there. I was at Hogwarts and regularly received letters from her – she reminded me that she didn't expect anything of me but described in detail everything that was happening, from the first kick that she felt to the dreams she had, where a young girl with brown hair threaded pearls together."

Harry raised his eyebrows incredulously and Snape explained.

"Witches often have dreams that reveal the sex of their baby. I may not have seen Bella since she had told me she was pregnant, but I already knew that I would be having a little girl. She wrote to tell me about the birth. And although the name she chose made me grimace, I couldn't stop staring at the photo. I even punched Black and broke his nose when he tried to take it off me. I decided that I would call you Demi," he added, looking at his daughter, "because it seemed less strange to me.

A few weeks after you were born, she came to Hogwarts, in the middle of dinner, and pressed you into my arms. It was the first time I had really seen you. She told me that she had to get married and I had to look after you for a bit. Then she disappeared. Narcissa took you from me and cuddled you until you realised your mother had gone. You took in a deep breath and started yelling. Narcissa put you back into my arms and you stopped.

But I couldn't put you down for a second. You refused to let me leave you and you screamed at the top of your lungs if I ever tried to put you in your crib. I spent almost a week clutching you in my arms.

Then Bella came back. When you saw her you laughed for the first time. She promised me that I would see you again soon if I wanted.

Sometime later, I wrote to her and asked if she could bring you to Hogsmeade the following weekend. She came alone. When I asked where you were she said she wanted to talk to me first. She took me to a quiet spot and showed me her Dark Mark."

Snape absently rubbed his own Dark Mark.

"She didn't leave me any choice. Either I joined up as soon as I left Hogwarts and Dementia Black would become Dementia Snape, or I refused and she would take you away and Rodolphus would raise you and become the official father."

"So you did it…" murmured Demi.

"Demi, I have regretted many things in my life. But I have never regretted knowing you, despite the consequences."

"And what happened next?" Harry interrupted sharply. Demi looked at him in surprise and Snape gave him a sharp look, but he finished his story anyway.

"When I finally received the Mark, Bellatrix started doing more missions in the field while I stayed in the lab and looked after you. Then, Draco was born and Narcissa looked after you – you were ecstatic to have a friend and treated him like a living doll. Sixteen months later, Harry, you defeated the Dark Lord and Bella was arrested shortly afterwards. Albus exonerated me by revealing I was a spy. He offered me the position of Potions Professor and I spent a horrible summer trying to convince a really very stubborn five year old girl that she would love living with Charlus and Isabelle."

"I didn't want to?"

"You wanted your mother. You didn't see her a lot, and never as a Death Eater. You were much too young for her to start introducing you to that. In fact, you only saw her when you had your bath and went to bed. You didn't really know who she was. She might be mad and bloodthirsty, but she behaved like any other mother around you."

"Can I go?" Harry asked suddenly.

Snape frowned but agreed and watched as Harry left without further ado.

"So I was only bait," Demi murmured.

"I would have joined anyway, for her. She knew that. She kept you because she wanted that."

Dementia nodded vaguely. "I need some time to digest this. I think I'll go to bed."

Demi stood and headed for her bedroom. She stopped at the door. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think Aunt Cissy knows where Mum is?"

"Probably. Lucius definitely knows and it is highly likely that he told his wife."

Dementia hesitated again. "Dad?"

"What?"

"Do you regret adopting Harry?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Then maybe you should tell him that."

Dementia disappeared into her room without waiting for an answer. Snape stayed where he was, staring at the door the young woman had just gone through. Things were still tense between him and Harry. He didn't think the boy really was interested in whether or not he regretted the adoption. Perhaps it was time to talk to his son…

He sighed and leaned back in his armchair. He wasn't exactly a mind healer; he was more than in his element when he talked about discipline, authority and rules, but when it came to emotions… He had only rarely told his daughter how much she meant to him and had practically never done that since she was a teenager.

He had needed two glasses of Firewhisky just to get to the end of his story, for Merlin's sake. He looked at the bottle and decided that, under the circumstances, he could allow himself to have a third glass. Demi must be asleep by now. Harry was probably in the common room. He would talk to him later. It wasn't urgent.

oOo

"You can't be serious," Neville said in a toneless voice.

"I am," Harry sighed.

"But she's nice!"

"That's because she doesn't know her," Hermione said gently. "Cruelty isn't genetic, it's all about how you're raised. Dementia probably doesn't remember anything about her mother anymore."

"Anyway, she's in a right state," Harry explained. "She's shaken and scared. But now that that crazy woman has broken out I had to tell you. I didn't want you – especially you, Nev – to find out if she sent a howler or if it was on the front page."

Hermione and Ron nodded solemnly. Neville staggered slightly as he got to his feet.

"Thanks Harry. Don't worry, I know your sister had nothing to do with anything, but I have to write to my grandmother."

Harry nodded and grasped the hand that his friend offered him, relieved that he had taken this so well. He wasn't sure if he would have reacted so well if it had been him.

"It was good of you to tell him, Harry," Hermione murmured. "He could have reacted badly if he'd heard about it from someone else."

Harry nodded.

There were several knocks on the door and Hermione looked pointedly at Ron without saying a word. The redhead sighed and rolled his eyes as he went to open the door.

Professor Snape walked into the room, his expression sombre.

"Harry, can we talk?"

"Er… yeah," Harry replied, surprised.

"Since Dementia is sleeping like a log in her room, perhaps we should go to my office."

"Ok."

Harry stood and followed his father. A few minutes later, they were in the office next to the potions classroom.

"So, explain it to me," Snape said.

"Explain what?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Your reaction, your interruptions, the fact that you were irritated by Demi's story."

"I wasn't irritated!"

"Well you did a good job of looking it! It was almost as good as Demi's impression of the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland."

Harry's eyes widened at the reference to muggle literature and Snape smiled in amusement. "Well?"

Harry sighed. "It's nothing - and it has nothing to do with Demi, or the psychotic madwoman she has as a mother…"

"A fitting description, Mr Potter," Snape said, smiling. "On a more serious note, Harry, something has upset you – that much is obvious."

"It's nothing."

"Harry…"

"It's nothing, ok… It's stupid. It's just… I'd like a father too."

"I'm your father, Harry."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Harry," Snape sighed, "I know where this is going… No-one can give you back your childhood, not me or Black… But I think you idealise my relationship with Demi too much. What I mean is that I was never a father like Potter was or like Arthur Weasley probably was. Your sister spent the first years of her life surrounded by Death Eaters and in the company of that ice queen Narcissa Malfoy. Or at least, the ice queen that she became after her marriage… Believe me when I say that it wasn't all cuddles and chatting; she was very isolated. I only used to watch her out of the corner of my eye while I was making potions and I think that she always had a deeper relationship with her toy owl than she did with her mother or me."

Harry nodded and asked his father if he could go. He didn't have any intention to talk about how he felt and he was uneasy about talking to the Potions Master like this. Snape nodded, but as soon as Harry was about to step through the door, Snape's voice stopped him.

"I didn't think it needed to be explained, but obviously I was wrong. I don't regret adopting you Harry, in fact quite the opposite. I am what I am, but I'm happy to have you as a son."

Harry smiled. "Thanks."

He left without waiting for a response. He couldn't stop smiling all the way back to his common room. The weight that had settled on his shoulders when he had learned about his sister's mother had just been lifted.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Hi guys!**_

 _ **Les Varioufs just sent me the English translation of chapter 14 and I stopped everything I was doing to immediately publish it!**_

 _ **I hope everything goes well for you, that the arrival of winter does not bother you and that you love this chapter!**_

 _ **Have a nice week end!**_

* * *

Harry poured himself a large mug of hot chocolate and buttered a piece of toast, happily sinking his teeth into it seconds later. A shadow fell on the table in front of him and he jumped when he heard Snape's low voice.

"Have you seen your sister this morning, by any chance?"

Harry took enough time to swallow his mouthful and wash it down with a gulp of pumpkin juice before he replied. "No, Father."

Snape looked at him suspiciously, but without animosity. Harry stared wide eyed back at him, becoming the very picture of innocence in the blink of an eye.

"You won't say anything?"

"I don't know anything," Harry protested with a total lack of sincerity.

Snape studied him for a few seconds and then turned sharply on his heel to go and get his own meal.

"Why's he looking for her?" Ron asked.

"Dunno…"

"But you know where she is," Hermione pressed him.

"That I know, yeah. She's gone to take some things to Snuffles."

"Why didn't you tell Snape?" Ron asked.

"Because she's much scarier than he is," he said, smiling. "And because she's going to try to convince Snape to let me stay at Grimmauld Place for Christmas."

"Oh brilliant!" Ron said enthusiastically. "We'll all be there too!"

"Well done, Ron," Hermione sighed, annoyed.

"What?"

"Well if Professor Snape says no, Harry will be more upset now!"

"Why would he say no?"

"You never know!"

Harry rolled his eyes but managed not to get involved in his friends' latest argument.

"Do you really think he'll risk saying no to Demi and Mum?" Ron asked.

"You never know," Hermione repeated stubbornly.

Ron shook his head but gave up and just gave Harry a look instead. Harry smirked at him but said nothing. He agreed with Ron; there was no reason why Snape wouldn't let him stay with Sirius, especially since he was the one who had said that the holidays would be a chance for Harry to get away from Hogwarts – and Umbridge – for a bit. And since the professor didn't leave the castle during the Christmas holidays, the only solution he could see would be to let him join his friends.

An hour later, Harry went with Ron and Hermione to the train station in Hogsmeade. Ron whispered "See you soon" while Hermione watched him suspiciously. She promised to write to Harry if he didn't arrive soon for Christmas.

Harry returned to the castle and found it deserted; Umbridge's presence had made those who normally stayed for the holidays flee.

 _Speaking of the old shrew_ , Harry thought, _look who just turned up_.

The witch was heading straight for Harry, her eyebrows drawn into a disapproving expression.

"What are you doing here, Mr Potter?"

"Nothing, Professor," he replied, forcing himself to be polite. "I've just got back from taking my friends to the station."

"The station?" hissed Umbridge. "So, you left the castle without permission?"

A cold voice intervened before Harry could reply. "Harry had my permission, Dolores."

"Severus," she simpered, "since Mr Potter is staying at the castle during the holidays, he must follow the rules. Showing him favouritism because he's a professor's son wouldn't be very fair, would it?"

"I can assure you that Harry gets no benefit from his status," Snape replied in an icy tone. "However, I do agree with you about the principle."

The witch sent an evil smile in Harry's direction, who had frozen when he heard his father's words.

"However, Harry isn't spending the holidays here. His departure is a bit different from the others, certainly, but he's not on the list of students who are staying behind. In fact, I don't believe that any students are staying at the castle this year. I still have to finish marking and preparing a few things, and then Harry and I will be leaving the castle for the holidays."

"Oh," Umbridge replied, clearly unable to think of anything else.

She was eager to punish Harry but had no valid reason to do so. That wouldn't normally stop her, but punishing the boy in front of his own father when he had obviously not done anything was beyond her. Instead, she played on the Potions Master's strictness, hoping it would ruin the boy's holiday.

"Before you leave, Severus, I need to talk to you," she simpered. She shot Harry a loaded look.

"Very well. I have time now, let's go to the staff room. Harry, go to my office," he ordered. "I'll join you there."

Harry shook all over as he headed towards Snape's office. So, he was going back to the manor for the holidays, and since Demi was going to spend her time off with Sirius, he would be alone with his father. Knowing Umbridge, she would make him furious with Harry and… Harry sadly closed his eyes, folded his arms on the desk and laid his head on them.

Twenty minutes later, the sound of the door quickly opening made Harry jump. He looked worriedly at his father, who stood in front of him and stared at him wordlessly.

"It would seem," Snape finally said after several minutes of silence, "that you are insolent, disrespectful, and a definite bad influence on this school. Dolores suggested that I use the holidays to put you back on the correct path using – how did she put it? Yes – brute force."

Harry said nothing, simply lowered his eyes and swallowed.

"I'm not stupid, you know," his father continued in a lighter tone.

Harry's head snapped up and he caught the gaze of the somewhat amused man in front of him.

"I know that you're insolent. But I have never really heard you disrespect your professors. Even if you did, there wouldn't be enough left after Minerva was finished with you for me to even 'put back on the correct path'."

Harry couldn't help but smile.

"As for being a bad influence on the school, I must say that this is somewhat exaggerated. Especially compared with the walking curse that is the Weasley twins."

Harry stopped himself from laughing with difficulty.

"Right," Snape continued, "now that you know that I'm not angry, let's talk about the holidays."

Harry sat up straighter in his armchair.

"In two days, we will go back to the manor and, officially, we won't leave. Since the manor is protected, I would prefer for the Ministry to think you are locked away there. Demi will drive you to your godfather's. I don't know what Mrs Weasley threatened him with but I am, shall we say, invited for Christmas Eve dinner. You, on the other hand, will spend all of your time off there and won't come back until the day before school starts. I'm counting on Lupin to keep you out of trouble while I'm not there. Don't do anything that I wouldn't approve of and remember that nothing stays secret forever."

Harry agreed eagerly: the threat was clear, but he was ecstatic. He was going to spend the holidays with his godfather and his friends. Even Snape being there on Christmas Eve didn't dampen his good mood.

"During the next two days, I would like you to make my office a second home and do your homework. That way you won't have anything to worry about for the rest of the holidays and you will stay out of Umbridge's way."

"Can't I go to the library? I'll need books."

"The library is closed for the holidays since no students are staying at Hogwarts, and I don't want you to be somewhere Umbridge can find you. If it's me you're worried about, you can work in my rooms."

"No, not at all… I-"

"Harry," Snape interrupted with a small smile, "believe me, I wouldn't be offended. I don't like being watched while I'm working either."

Harry raised a sceptical eyebrow – students didn't exactly watch the professor during a class.

Understanding what he meant, Snape clarified. "I mean while I'm preparing potions, doing research or marking. I'm not talking about the teaching aspect of my job, obviously."

Harry nodded and went to the dormitory to pick up his books and notes, before heading straight back to the dungeons.

"Mr Potter!"

He sighed and turned to face Professor Umbridge. "Yes, Professor?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to do my homework."

"Return to your dormitory immediately."

"My father asked me to do it in his rooms."

"Stop telling insolent lies!"

"I'm not lying," he replied through gritted teeth.

He saw Umbridge narrow her eyes and thought he was about to get another detention. He heard a noise behind him and sighed in relief when he recognised Snape's footsteps. He had never been so happy to see him.

Snape frowned when he saw him with Umbridge. "Why aren't you working yet?" he asked sharply.

"But Professor Umbridge…" Harry began, but stopped when he saw his father's severe expression.

"Go on," he hissed. "And don't think you've got away with it – I'm coming."

Harry didn't need to be told twice – he took off at a run. Out of breath, he said the password to the portrait, who looked at him suspiciously before deciding to open. Heart thumping wildly, he put his things on the table and jumped when a door slammed behind him.

"Hi," Dementia chirped. She looked at Harry and sighed. "What now?"

Before Harry could reply, the door opened again and Severus walked through. Dementia narrowed her eyes when she noticed her brother backing away, but before she could think of telling him off, her father spoke.

"Harry?"

"Why did you shout at me like that? It was her – she stopped me while I was coming here!"

"Harry," Snape sighed, "I only wanted her to think that what she had said had worked and that she had managed to make me angry with you. I thought you'd understood."

Harry nodded carefully, trying to calm down his racing heart. It was an act; he should have realised that.

Dementia decided she had to lighten the mood quickly. "Ok, we're going to Hogsmeade."

"What?" Snape asked.

"That's right. We're going to Hogsmeade. I need to finish my shopping. Harry needs to do his Christmas shopping and you have some shopping to do too, unless I'm wrong. So, we're going to Hogsmeade, we'll split up for two hours for our shopping and then we'll drink a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks."

"You haven't-" Snape began.

"Don't even try to get out of it," Demi hissed, "it's Christmas, so we're going to have a family outing! You _can_ spend one hour with your children without getting ill, can't you?"

"Very well," Snape conceded. He hated it when Demi got shrill. "Let's go!"

Thrilled, Harry ran up to Gryffindor tower to find the money that his sister had given him at the beginning of the year and to get changed. He pulled on a pair of jeans, a jumper, and grabbed his Hogwarts cloak. He went back down quickly to find his sister and father waiting for him in the Entrance Hall.

"You took your time," Demi complained.

"You didn't have to get to the other end of the castle," Harry retorted.

"Here," Snape interrupted, handing him some money. "I went to Gringotts last weekend to get some money out of your account for you. I suspected you wouldn't have time to go yourself and would need some money for your Christmas shopping."

"Let's go!" Dementia said happily.

They went their separate ways once they got to the village. Harry went to the bookshop first, as he had owl ordered a book for Hermione. He looked around him and decided he could always have a look in here to try to find a present for his father.

"Do you need something else?" the man behind the desk asked.

"I'd like to get my father a book, but I don't know what to get him."

"What type of books does he like?"

Harry noticed that the bookseller was only a few years older than he was. "He's Professor Snape."

"Oh," the man replied, smiling, "maybe I can help you then. Professor Snape normally asks me to put aside any new books on Potions and Defence – obviously, I do that straight away. I've got a book on each. They won't be for sale until after Christmas, but I can make an exception for the son of my old Head of House…"

"You were in Slytherin?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Gryffindor."

The man started laughing. "Professor Snape must love that."

Harry just sighed, making the bookseller laugh harder. He invited Harry into the shop's back room to look at the books; one was a thick potions tome called _The Properties of Forgotten Ingredients_ , and the other was an equally thick Defence book called _Advanced Counter-Spells and Protective Enchantments Against Dark Magic_.

"Ok I'll take both," Harry decided. "If my father comes in you can tell him about the Defence book – I'm buying it for someone else – but don't mention the Potions book."

"That shouldn't be a problem – I'm the only one who knows about these books anyway. I'm sure he'll really like them. So that's 75 Galleons for those two and the book you ordered."

Harry thanked the man and paid, then walked out of the shop. He went to the Quidditch shop to buy Ron a book about the history of the Chudley Cannons and their most famous matches. Then he went to the girls' shop, as Ron called it, to get a necklace for Demi and a collection of hair grips in a variety of colours for Ginny (Hermione had told him that Ginny considered it as important as the make-up set that she planned to give her). Next, he headed to the joke shop to buy a new arsenal for the Weasley twins and then dropped by Honeydukes to get some sweets for himself and Ron.

Finally, he looked at his watch. He had twenty minutes left to find something for Mrs Weasley to thank her for being so nice to him and Sirius. As for Mr Weasley, he planned to take him around London to buy him some Muggle tools.

He walked around Hogsmeade again and came across a small shop that he had never noticed before called the Household Haven. He decided to go in to see if he could find something for Mrs Weasley. He homed in on a set of cooking dishes that stopped cooking by themselves once the meal was cooked. He remembered Ginny telling Ron that their mother would have loved that but it was too expensive for them to buy, so they had bought cookery books instead. The set, which included 2 cake tins, a baking dish, a casserole dish and two frying pans, was 20 Galleons. Harry didn't hesitate for a second – Mrs Weasley was the closest thing he had to a mother.

"Right, now Sirius," Harry sighed, and walked around the village again.

He was just looking at all the shops again for the second time and was about to resign himself to just sticking a giant red bow to Dementia's forehead when he came across his father, who had apparently finished his shopping and was heading for the Three Broomsticks.

"You look like you're having fun," Snape said mockingly.

"I can't find anything for Sirius."

Thankfully, Snape restrained himself from making an insulting comment about the ex-prisoner. This wasn't the right time – Harry would explode if he did that.

"Well, I believe that Black knows a lot about liqueur and whisky. There's a shop behind the Hog's Head that sells some sets of liqueurs."

"I saw it but people under 17 aren't allowed in."

"Since you're with me I doubt there'll be a problem. Since your sister is always late, I think we have time to go there now."

Harry smiled, relieved to have found an idea for his godfather's present. They walked into the shop and Snape started talking to the owner.

"Hello, this young man would like to buy a set of liqueurs for his uncle. Could you help him? I'll wait here," he added, turning to Harry.

"Ok, thank you Father."

The man showed him different sets and explained that all of the drinks in the shop could be sold together. Harry was amazed to find a set with a bottle and two tumblers with a stag engraved on them – it looked amazing. Harry asked his father if he thought cream whisky liqueur would be a good idea and Snape nodded. He'd spent enough time at HQ listening to Sirius complaining about not being able to go to a good whisky shop and knew that the former prisoner had always loved cream whisky liqueur and apple liqueur. Harry grimaced at the price – 27 Galleons – but refrained from commenting.

Harry happily thanked Snape for his help and followed him back to the Three Broomsticks. They were nearly 10 minutes late, but Dementia still wasn't there and only arrived a few minutes after them.

"Did you get everything?" she asked Harry.

"Yes, Father sorted it all out just now."

"So I won't have a chance to take a look then," she muttered, pretending to sulk.

"Nope!"

Dementia burst out laughing and attracted the attention of the waitress that Madame Rosmerta had hired a few weeks before.

"Actually, Father, why did you say I wanted a present for my uncle?"

"Because after he escaped everyone knows that Sirius Black is your uncle. I didn't want to risk it."

Harry nodded – he hadn't thought of that. He was lucky that he hadn't corrected his father in the shop.

The waitress walked up to them to take their order. When she noticed Snape, she froze and started stammering. "What… er… w-what can I get… y… er… you?"

"A coffee for me," Snape replied, "a lemon tea?" he asked his daughter, who nodded. "A lemon tea and a butterbeer," he finished, already knowing what Harry would like.

The young woman nodded nervously, hurried away and bumped into the chair at the table next to them.

"She's not normally so clumsy," Dementia murmured, thoughtful. "And she normally talks more too."

A few minutes later, the young woman returned and hurriedly put their drinks on the table. She nearly spilled the boiling hot tea all over Demi's silk shirt when she saw that Severus had taken his outer robes off. Then she flushed and avoided eye contact with Snape when she gave him his coffee.

"Thank you."

At that, she turned crimson.

Snape watched her discreetly as she walked away, a small smile appearing on his lips. He must not have been as subtle as he'd thought, because Demi and Harry exchanged incredulous looks and then burst out laughing. Snape glared at them and drank his coffee. Dementia and Harry exchanged wicked glances that he pretended not to notice.

When they finally left the building, Dementia had stifled so many bursts of laughter that she was nearly hyperventilating. On the way back, she started singing a very out of tune rendition of _Invitation to the blues_ by Tom Waits, much to Harry's amusement and Snape's annoyance.

"Well she's up against the bar with an apron and a spatula,

Yesterday's deliveries, tickets for the bachelors

She's a moving violation from her conk down to her shoes,

Well, it's just an invitation to the blues!"

"Are you finished?" Snape asked. "Stop making a fool of yourself. And it's 'up against the register'."

"I was improvising."

"And she didn't have a spatula," Snape muttered.

"Ooo, you noticed, did you?" Demi cooed, making Harry laugh.

"No, I didn't. What was in your tea?"

"Oh? But she was looking at you so much she nearly dropped my drink!"

"It was nothing!"

"Come on, admit you like her!"

"That's enough, Dementia," Snape snapped.

Demi lifted her hands in surrender, still smiling. When they arrived at the castle, she headed towards Hagrid's cabin to ask him to take a look at her owl, who seemed unusually tired.

Before she left, she had something to say; "Well, I happen to know she's called Evaeliane and she's about 29 or 30. She's single and she works every day at the Three Broomsticks from 11 till 5."

She ran off before her father could even reply. Snape turned to glare at Harry, his raised eyebrow just daring him to make a comment.

Harry smiled innocently and said, as neutrally as a he could, "Did you find anything interesting in Hogsmeade?"

Snape sighed and smirked. "Go away, you're no better than your sister!"

Harry laughed and ran after his sister, leaving his father with the shopping. Snape rolled his eyes and summoned a house elf to take the many bags back to his rooms.

Twenty minutes later, Demi and Harry were walking back up to the castle. Harry gulped when he saw Umbridge heading towards them, but when she didn't even look at them Harry wondered if Dementia's presence had put her off picking on Harry.

Not wanting to climb the seven floors up to Gryffindor tower again, Harry asked Dobby to get his bag for him. He was quiet when he got to Snape's rooms, and the latter was surprised at his sudden change in mood until Dementia explained that they had run into Dolores Umbridge. Even though she hadn't said anything, it had been enough to dampen Harry's mood.

"Very well," Snape sighed. "You could both leave today instead, but I'm going back tomorrow. Harry, it's not a problem if you want to go to Black's today – or if you prefer, you could finish your homework at home and go there tomorrow evening like we planned."

"I think I'll do my homework first – Hermione won't shut up otherwise," Harry said, smiling.

"Very well. Is that ok with you, Demi?"

"Yeah," Demi said, smiling. "I really want to get out of here to be honest. Dolores is unbearable, and Madame Pince thinks I'm spending the holidays here helping her with her inventory – but I just want to get out while I still can!"

Snape smirked and agreed that they could leave immediately. Demi took the bags with all of her shopping in, as well as Harry's; Snape point blank refused to let her look after his. He walked them to the gate to Hogwarts, where they once again ran into Professor Umbridge, who glared at Harry. Harry instinctively moved closer to his sister and held her arm. Demi put her arm around him and, clutching their suitcase firmly in the other hand, she apparated them in front of the gates to Snape Manor.

"Go and get settled," she ordered Harry. "I'm going to tell Kookie that we're back and then phone Sirius to let him know we're coming tomorrow."

Harry smiled and went to his room. For the first time in his life, he was relieved to leave Hogwarts, and the added incentive of seeing his godfather the next day helped him to find the motivation he needed to make quick work of the mountain of homework that the professors had given him.

Harry spent the rest of his afternoon doing his transfiguration, charms and astronomy homework. After they ate, Dementia let him stay up and helped him with his herbology, history of magic and care of magical creatures homework. All he had left was his potions and defence against the dark arts homework, which he would do the next day with his father's help. After that he would have two whole weeks of pure freedom, since all his divination homework involved was keeping a dream diary.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello everyone,**

 **Yes, sorry, it's not a new chapter, not yet.**

 **Since the first of January, I tried to join Les Varioufs by mail several times without having answers.**

 **So, in front of this persistent silence, I am very annoyed because I have no one to translate the story.**

 **I do not speak enough English to do it myself (I use google translate to write to you and I guess it feels ...).**

 **If someone feels ready to take over, or knows someone who would agree to do so, do not hesitate to contact me in private message. I'm going for my side, but I had a hard time finding Les Varioufs, so it's better if we all look.** **I still hope that Les Varioufs will come out of his silence and continue to translate, I cross my fingers!**

 **I take this opportunity to remind you that I CAN NOT respond to messages / reviews left in "guest" mode. To have an answer you must be registered on fanfiction or leave me an email address. When I have a way to do it, I always try to answer as quickly as possible.**

 **I leave you, I have a translator to find!**


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